This Way of Existing
by Norwegian Blue
Summary: Hindsight isn't always twenty-twenty. The story of the circumstances that led up to Lily and James' deaths, told from Peter's point of view.
1. Default Chapter

Peter frowned at the train schedule. It was a few weeks after he returned to work after Christmas and he had just punched out. As usual, he had headed to the train station. As usual, he was hustled through the turn tiles by the push of the crowd. However, when he at last was freed from the mob, he had to look for the grimy map that was fastened to the wall. Ever since he had been instructed to take the train, he had memorized the train number he had to take and exactly how many stops he would have to take before getting off. After that, he refused to pay attention to what the maps and the announcer said. He knew it would only confuse him. He could never figure out what the announcer said, anyway. He thought it must be in some strange Muggle code, though for the life of him, he couldn't understand why train announcements would have to be in code. 

            Today, he wasn't going home, but yet, here he was, in the train station, trying to figure out where he was going. 

            "Baskerville Road, Baskerville Road…" he muttered, scanning the dingy map. He was careful not to say the entire address out loud, in case someone was listening.  Looking around quickly, he decided that nobody was paying much attention to him today. He was wearing his Muggle coat today.

            "Hey, mate," Peter looked up started. He saw a man sitting with his back against the wall, wearing a worn coat that was patched in numerous places. His trainers were taped over with shiny gray tape, and though he stood a few feet away, Peter caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Stale whiskey, burnt coffee, with the stink of one who had not taken a shower for a while. 

            "I'm sorry?" Peter said politely. Better not make him angry. He might be one of those muggers he had heard about.

            The man smiled. One of his teeth was missing, but he did not seem to be aware of this. Peter was tempted to point it out to them. "Yiv' been lookin' ah the map for bit now. Yeh be needin' some 'elp?"

            "Er," Peter stammered. If there was one thing that Moody had told them over and over again was to not take directions from strangers. Especially directions to somewhere… important. 

            The man took a battered cigarette out of his pocket. "I know I'm nah the most trustworddy lookin' chap… You don' got a light, d'ya?" He said, patting about his pockets.

            Peter started to reach for his wand, but covered up for it by pretending that he was checking his pockets. "No, I'm sorry." 

            "Ah, no matter. Sometimes it's just as good withou' it bein' lit. And that way it lasts longer, eh?"

            "Yes," Peter grinned a little nervously.

            "Anyway, you can trust me. What do I have to gain of cheatin' yeh, eh? Tell me that?"

            "Nothing, I guess," Peter shuffled his feet. 

            "So, tell me where 'tis you're going,"

            Peter thought back to when Frank had told him where the next meeting was going to be. He remembered him saying it was next to something. _It's next to… It's next to Puh… Petrol station on the corner. _

            "Petrol station," Peter said triumphantly.

            The man raised his eyebrows. "Which petrol station?"

            "Which petrol station?" Peter repeated blankly.

            "Yeah, mate! There are hundreds of petrol stations around here, at least,"

            Peter tried to remember. _The Petrol station has a big red sign with an 'H' on it. _He remembered Frank saying in an exasperated tone. _Come on, Pete, you got to remember this. Don't get lost again. _ 

            "It has a big 'H' sign on it." 

            The man thought for a moment. "That's probably Hortinson's. There's one of them on Glaston Circle. An' there's another on Baskerville Road… and I think…"

            "That's it!" Peter interrupted. 

            "You sure, now?" The man inquired. 

            "Yes, yes!" 

            "Oh, glad to be uh help," The man cleared his throat, casually pushing a tin with his hand. Peter looked blankly at it. The man rolled his eyes and shook the tin meaningfully again. 

            "Oh!" Peter said. He fumbled for his money pouch. There were only a little bit of Muggle money in it. Heloise gave it to him because she thought it was a bit of a laugh. He took out a bill with a ten on it*.  "Is this good?" Peter said, handing it to him.

            An expression passed over the man's face that Peter could not read, and it was gone just as quickly. "Oh, thanks, mate. You didn't need to be doing tha'. Much obliged. You'll want to be waiting on that platform there, where that chap with the bright green coat is. Just get off where they say West Street. 

            "Thank you," Peter said, and started walking in that direction.

            "Hey!" Peter turned around.

            "Yeah?"

            "Why are you going to a petrol station by train?"

            Peter felt the color going out of his face. But he was saved by the arrival of his train.

            "Ah, never mind then," The man said, waving and taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

            Peter got on the train, again constantly making sure that no one was following him. It had been cloudy all day, but it seemed to be get sunnier out when he got out, and the glare hurt his eyes. He blinked a few times and saw a bright red sign next to a petrol station on the corner.  The knot in his stomach loosened.

            He walked toward the red sign and as he got closer, he saw shimmering in the air next to it. 

            "Some poor Muggles own that gas station." Someone said next to him. Peter stiffened, but relaxed when he saw it was Benjy Fenwick. He grinned at Peter. "Scare ya?" 

            Peter shook his head. "What were you saying?" 

            "Some Muggles have seen that shining and think that the petrol is leaking into the ground, and it's—er—evaporating? Evaporating into the air. So they've called their government officials to complain. A bit funny really. I was here yesterday setting up the protection charms." 

            "They see you?" Peter asked worriedly. 

            "Nah, I was using Moody's Invisibility Cloak. Anyway, every time one of them got near the place, they suddenly had to use the lavatory and had to run over to the petrol station."

            "Why don't we do a better spell so they can't see it?" Peter asked as they started walking toward the disturbance. 

            "Too much magic there already." Benjy whispered. "Any more and it wouldn't become unplottable unless we did a Fidelius charm."

            "Why aren't we doing that?" Peter asked, frowning at the space ahead of them. 

            "Too risky. If the person who kept the secret died…" Benjy trailed off. 

            Peter turned and looked at him. "Come on, Pete, let's go inside." 

            Peter concentrated on the address. Amazingly, he had managed to remember it. "The location for the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix for January seventeenth is forty-seven Baskerville Road." He muttered to himself. He looked up and saw a dilapidated old house standing where the disturbance in the air had been. 

            They had several buildings around the city and its suburbs for this purpose. They switched it around randomly so that the Death Eaters stood less of a chance of finding them. Peter honestly didn't think that it would help that much, but Moody insisted that it was better than nothing, which it probably was. 

            The house appeared empty, but Peter knew better. Sure enough, a second or two later, the door swung in and Moody's eye glared at them. "What are you doing? Waiting for an invitation?"

* I don't know, did pounds come in paper form before they switched to Euros? If not, could someone tell me so I could fix it. Anyway, Peter gave the guy five pounds, which I think translates to about eight dollars. Again, if I'm wrong, someone tell me.

A/N: Ok, I'm definitely not British. I'll call a subway the Underground, I'll call a gas station a Petrol station. But I definitely won't call a bathroom a loo. You'll just have to settle for lavatory.

 I won't update this story on a regular basis for a couple of reasons. One, I've got school, which takes up a lot of time. Two, I've got work, which also takes up a lot of time. Three, as stated before, I really don't want to write this story, so any excuse not to put up another chapter is fine with me and if the plot isn't bothering me too badly, I won't put another chapter up if I don't feel like it. Sorry. However (taps her fingers together), I could be persuaded with reviews. Hint, hint.

Hrei! Great to 'see' you again. Thanks for your review. You made valid points, and I am the first to admit that my math is horrible ( see above *), but, being a July baby myself, I had this figured out long ago. Lily would be two months pregnant at Christmas, but it was winter, and unless it doesn't get cold in England in the winter (which I highly doubt) she would be wearing bulky winter clothes. Plus, they're guys, how would they know if she was a little tiny bit bigger? And as for your other point, this is how it works out. As of January, Lily will have Harry in seven months. Then, in the books, when they always talk about that Halloween, Harry was a year old when his parents died. So that makes the year and seven months. Harry is born at the end of July so we won't count that as one whole month. So- August, September, October. Three months. Seven plus three is ten so a year and ten months. Boy, I thought about that way too much.


	2. Getting there is Half the Fun

Author's note: This story takes place from about a year and ten months before Halloween, 1981.  The fic deals with the question of whether Peter is inherently evil, and if he isn't, what went wrong and when it did. This fic is kind of inspired by my other fic "Half of a Venn Diagram". Yes, I know, random title.  You don't have to read it to understand that fic to understand this one. This one just answers the question of who the other half is, other than that they don't really have anything to do with each other, other then they take place in the Harry Potter Realm. I would appreciate if you did read it, though (hint). There is occasionally swearing, which would explain the rating, nothing big, though. I don't do slash, and any romance will be minimal and essential to the plot line. I revised the chapters because there were typos, and any typos set me on edge, so it was bugging the hell out of me. If I missed any, let me know.

            Peter pulled his cloak tighter around him and headed straight toward the Underground entrance two blocks ahead, taking furtive glances to the sides and the occasional glance behind him. It just wasn't safe nowadays, especially if you were in the Order. He would have much rather have gone by the Floo network, but even that wasn't safe anymore. Just two weeks ago, the daughter of Thomas Abelard, the head of the department of Muggle Weapon Tampering, was snatched while traveling home from the office. She had been an Auror. Alice Longbottom had talked to her once about joining the order and that day she was taken. Peter shivered. 

            He could have Apparated, but he had never been much shakes at that. He had his license, for sure, but it had taken him four tries before he passed the test. He still hadn't improved much and it was almost a relief when Dumbledore had said that it was too dangerous and risky to Apparate into an unsecured area and had advised them to avoid it unless absolutely necessary. 

            Peter took another glance behind him before he stepped down the stairs into closeness of the Underground's platform. He eyed his cloak ruefully for a moment before returning his attention to his environment. He had been trying to remember to dress as a Muggle to avoid attention, but after a life time of instinctively reaching for his cloak; his winter coat had hung unused day after day. He grinned sheepishly to himself. By the time he would remember to bring his coat, it would be spring and he wouldn't need it anymore. 

            A train pulled in. The doors opened and when Peter stepped in, he witnessed a miracle. An empty seat. He stepped toward it and glanced around to make sure that the person sitting next to it wasn't likely to start a fight. He managed to get to it before anyone else did and sat down triumphantly, again glancing around. He wasn't really sure what he was looking for and what would merit his attention. He supposed if he saw someone dressed as himself, he would have been startled and kept a watch on them, but they probably wouldn't be a Death Eater. They knew enough to keep a low profile when needed, and being on the Underground probably would have been a time when a low profile was needed. He couldn't imagine Bellatrix Lestrange going without trying to attract attention to herself, though, never mind using the Underground while doing so. Sirius had said that he was surprised that Voldemort hadn't killed her yet. Their propensity for attracting attention was very possibly the only thing that Sirius and his cousin had in common, though Peter would never think of mentioning that to Sirius. 

            He wasn't expecting trouble on the train. The Death Eaters were being watched by their side as closely as their side was being watched by them. You could never be too careful, though, he thought as his eyes swept the car again. The train rattled and then suddenly stopped. The doors slid open and some people got off and less people got on. A few more stops and Peter got off. He walked down a few streets, feeling progressively depressed. The sky was a flinty gray and the oppressively tall buildings that hugged the streets blended into it. He saw a few sparse flakes of snow flit down every once in a while but he never saw them land. 

            Peter continued his pattern of glancing around. There were quite a few people out on the street, but none of them looked to be up to something other than their everyday business. A few of them looked suspiciously at him, but he supposed a short stubby man in a long black cloak that kept looking around would be quite odd. 

            "Don't let yourself be seen if possible." Peter whispered to himself. At every meeting of the Order, this had been repeated endlessly. For Peter, most of the time, this was easy. He was used to being invisible. No one ever noticed him. He wasn't the loud boisterous sort, and let's be frank; he wasn't anything to look at, either. So people weren't prone to notice him. Even in a situation like this, where these Muggles would be telling their families about the odd man they saw on the street today, the one who was wearing the long coat with the strange hood, they would most likely find that they couldn't remember what he looked like, if they remembered him at all.

            This way of existing had served them well in school. When James and Sirius would plan a prank, they would have either Peter or Remus carry it out, Remus because he could be so quiet and Peter because no one would notice him or remember him being at the scene later. After Remus became a Prefect, they didn't make him do it anymore. When Dumbledore had asked James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius to join the order, James had suggested asking Peter to join because he could go without being noticed. He had another way of spying without being seen, but of course Dumbledore didn't know about that.

            So that left him here, walking down his own street, freezing because he was afraid to Apparate and constantly looking over his shoulder for an enemy that may or may not be there. 

            Peter shivered and rubbed his hands together. In addition to his coat, he had left his gloves at work. His grandmother would be rolling over in her grave. He jammed his hands into his armpits and started to trot down the street. He was almost at his building and it was freezing out. At this point he really didn't care. He was too cold and he was tired of looking over his shoulder. 

              
            He stood in front of his door, dancing a little to try to shake off the cold in the unheated corridor. He fumbled around in his pocket for his keys, sighing as the metal scraped across his chapped hands. He opened the door and stepped into the slightly warmer confines of his apartment. He stepped over to the thermostat and turned it up a couple of degrees. 

            He lived in a Muggle neighborhood because at the moment there was a lack of apartments in one of the wizarding districts. Only those from the richest families could afford one and they wouldn't buy them. Why would they? Most of them had their own private links through the Floo network to their offices in town with no other entryways en route. 

            His apartment was small. The kitchen consisted entirely of a refrigerator, a stove, a toaster oven, and a sink. There was nothing separating the kitchen from the living room, just the end of the linoleum and the start of the dingy gray carpet. There was a small television set standing in the corner of the room. The room was fairly bare, with the usual articles of furniture. There was a battered coffee table that was salvaged from a neighbor's moving sale. He had gotten the sofa from his Aunt Heloise when she had gone through a frenzy of spring cleaning last year and let out the smell of stale perfume whenever someone had sat on it. The chair he had bought himself from a clearance store. There was a bedroom, but he mainly used it for storage. There was a mattress in there, but usually he slept on the couch. 

            His apartment wasn't much, but it was his. He had rented it with his own money he got from his job as security guard at the Ministry. James and Lily's parents had each given them a good amount of money for a wedding gift and they had used it to put a payment on a small house. Sirius was still living in the apartment that he had gotten with his uncle's money and Remus was living in the house he grew up in, his parents had left it to him when they died. So Peter was the only one who had a place he had gotten through his own hard work. It was something to be proud of. 

            He looked over at the phone. He was especially proud of his phone. It wasn't that he never had one. When he was younger, they had a phone, because Heloise had married a Muggle once, and he had insisted on a phone. Heloise made Peter's mother get a phone so she would have someone to call. When Heloise had left her Muggle for another guy, she got rid of the phone, but Peter's mother didn't. She had gotten used to calling 'information'. She called at least once a day but whenever she got the bill, she would shake her head and say that she could understand why it had never caught on with wizarding world. When Peter moved out, she insisted that he get a phone so that she would have someone else to call besides the information lady. She knew what time he usually got home from work and she would call in a few minutes. As Sirius said, you could set your clock by her. 

            Sure enough, after he had used the bathroom, the phone rang. 

            "HI, SWEETIE!" she yelled into the phone. Peter winced. No matter how many times he told her that she didn't need to shout, she still was worried that he would be able to hear her. The information lady must be a saint. 

            "Hi, Mum," Peter said in his normal voice. Next she would ask how work was.

            "SO, HOW WAS WORK? NO ONE TRIED TO BREAK IN, DID THEY?" She gave a very loud chuckle.

            "No, mum," Peter sighed. "Everything was fine."

            "IS YOUR HEATER WORKING? IT'S SO COLD OUT; YOU'LL CATCH PNEUMONIA IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL!"

            "The heater's working fine," Peter said.

            "ARE YOU SURE? YOU CAN NEVER BE TOO SURE ABOUT THESE INFERNAL MUGGLE CONTRAPTIONS!"

            "Yes, Mum, I'm sure the heater's working." 

            "REMEMBER, DEAR, THE SECOND YOU WANT TO COME BACK, THE DOOR'S OPEN. DON'T EVEN ASK."

            "Mum, I've told you I can't live with you. How would I get to work? The Floo network isn't too reliable these days, and you know how bad I am at Apparating."

            "I STILL DON'T SEE WHY YOU HAVE TO BE DOING THIS, IT'S SO DANGEROUS NOWADAYS."

            "I know, mum, I'm being careful. And well, someone would have to be pretty stupid to openly attack the ministry."

            "WELL, YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT _HIS _GROUP WILL TRY,"

            Peter felt his gut clench. He was worried, though not about the ministry. If just one Death Eater thought that he was in the order, he was as good as dead. His mother didn't know about the order, though, and she was worried just about his regular job. 

            "Mum, I'm being careful," He said quietly into the mouthpiece. He didn't feel like talking anymore. "Mum, I go to go, there's, uh," Peter rapped on the wall next to him. "There's some one at the door."

            "OK, BUT IF YOU WANT TO COME TO DINNER THIS WEEKEND, HELOISE CAN PICK YOU UP. HER NEW BOYFRIEND'S GOT A CAR,"

            Peter laughed. "Okay, Mum,"

            A few weeks later he was going over his mother's house for Christmas. There would just be him, his mother, Aunt Heloise, and Aunt Heloise's flavor of the week. His father had died when Peter was three. When he was younger, he occasionally saw relatives from that side of the family and there was always a present under the tree from his grandparents and when he got older, he received a card with a few Galleons inside from them. But over the years, there had been less and less contact between them. When he was five, he heard some of them muttering about how much he looked like his father but acted too much like his mother. From then on, Peter had tried to act more out going, though he usually ended up goofing. 

            His mother was a fabulous cook and it was a pleasant day, although he thought that Aunt Heloise still looked a bit too tempted to pinch his cheeks. She had only stopped that when he graduated from Hogwarts. Her friend had seemed nice, if a tad boring. He was an accountant for the Ministry and Peter had seen him in the halls a few times. When he recognized Peter, he started a rather lively one-sided conversation about how the Ministry could cut down on expenses if they expanded the size of the parchment they used for interoffice memos, or simply used a modified Floo network to send the memos through.  Peter blinked a lot and nodded even more. Frankly, he surprised that Aunt Heloise found The Accountant interesting enough to spend any time with him. 

            They had dinner early in the afternoon. After that, Heloise said that they were going to visit her accountant's family and insisted that Peter's mother come along. She tried to make Peter come along, but Peter, thinking of a whole family of accountants, quickly backed out. Peter saw them pile into the accountant's car, which was quite impressive. Sirius would be drooling.  _Ah,_ Peter thought as he watched them drive down the street._ That's why Heloise likes him. As they turned the corner, Peter focused hard and suddenly, with a pop, he was standing behind a shed. Peter gave a sigh of relief. He was where he should have been. _

            Peter knew that Apparating wasn't usually a good idea, but he had Apparated to this spot so many times that even he couldn't screw it up. And he knew this place was pretty secure. It was on an unplottable piece of land and unless you knew exactly where to go, could picture it in your mind; you couldn't get there by Apparating. 

            Peter turned around and walked toward the street that had been behind him. In the distance, he could see the blurry outline of a smallish house. Puffing on his hands, Peter started walking toward the house. He couldn't have Apparated directly to the House, there were more Anti-Apparation charms on the place then he could count. The shed by the abandoned farm house down the street was the closest he could get. But he wasn't worried; he had Apparated to this place more than to his own apartment. 

            As he reached the front yard, the door swung open. "Hey, Pete! What took you so long?" James yelled out at him, half laughing.

            Peter broke into a jog. "I just came from my mother's!" He called back. "You know how she gets if I don't spend enough time with her." Peter said, reaching the door. James stepped aside to let him in. Peter hung his cloak on the hook by the door. 

            "Come on," James said, pushing him toward the living room. 

            Sirius and Remus were sitting in there with Lily.

            "Hey, Peter's finally here," James announced. 

            "Damn, Peter, I was hoping I could have your desert, because you know, Lily's cooking is so good and all," Sirius said, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes so that Lily could see him. Lily gave him a look, which appeared to have it's desired effect, because Sirius looked at his hands and said quickly, "Just kidding, Lil." 

            Lily smiled and looked at Peter. "Happy Christmas, Peter. How was your mother's?"

            "It was fine. Just me and Mum and Aunt Heloise and her accountant."

            "Her accountant?" Remus said, raising his eyes.

            "Let me guess, Peter. This type of accountant is the kind that helps count the rubbers." Sirius said.

            Lily groaned. "That is so disgusting. I can't believe you said that."

            Peter nodded. "Yeah," he said to Sirius. "But he's so boring, I have no idea how they hooked up."

            "Well, to each his own." Remus said. "Or her own, as the case may be."

            "Absolutely, Remus, otherwise how else would Lily have ended up with James," Sirius said.

            "All right," James said loudly. "That's enough." 

            "Oh, he never lets us have any fun," Sirius said in a stage whisper to Peter. 

            "Oh, grow up," James said crossly.

            "Now, now, let's stop fighting." Remus said mock seriously.

            "You hungry, Peter?" Lily asked. "We already ate."

            "No, I'm fine, I ate at my mothers." 

            "Well, you are going to eat dessert, aren't you?" Lily said. "It's pecan pie."

            "Ugghh, I love pecan pie." Sirius said, groaning in anticipation. The he grinned at Lily. "Even if Lily made it." 

            "That's it! You don't get any," Lily said.

            "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I grovel and prostate myself at your pie-making feet," Sirius said.

            "Pie-making feet," Remus said. "That's pretty impressive, Lily. I didn't know you could do that."

            "All right, Sirius has made enough of a fool of himself for now, it's time for dessert." Lily said.

            "Good point, if we waited for Sirius to stop making a fool of himself, we'd never get to eat," James said.

            After dessert they were sitting in the living room, talking and admiring the tree, which was propped up in the corner. Sirius had gone into the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of wine that he said his he had gotten from his Aunt Andromeda's house. Peter didn't really like wine and whenever he drank his face turned bright red and blotchy. But he knew he would get ribbed if he didn't have any. Sirius poured some for himself, Peter, Remus, and James. When he got to Lily, she quickly said, "None, for me, thanks."

            Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. She got up and went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of ginger ale. She had the oddest look on her face. "You feeling ok, Lil?" Remus asked. 

            "I'm fine, just wine hasn't been agreeing with me lately." She said, rubbing her stomach. 

            They sat there sipping their drinks. Then suddenly, James spoke. "I'd like to propose a toast."

            "Aren't you supposed to make a toast before you start drinking the wine and/or ginger ale?" Remus asked.

            "Probably." Sirius answered. "James, you aren't going to get all emotional on us, are you?"

            James hesitated. "Yes." He said shortly. He raised his glass up in the air. Lily looked at him nervously, but raised her glass. The others did the same. 

            "You know how weird everything has been lately-," He started.

            "I think I'm going to cry," Sirius said, pretending to blow his nose on his sleeve.

            "Shut up." James said crossly. "The world's a dangerous place, but thankfully, we're still here. We've found humor in situations where we probably shouldn't have, found opportunities where others haven't, and managed to accomplish the impossible,"

            "My, he's so modest," Remus said. James frowned at him. "We've managed to accomplish the impossible several times over," he continued. "And I propose that we try the impossible again-,"

            "Oh, what do we have to do now? Cure cancer?" Peter groaned. 

            "Shut up," James breathed heavily through his nose. "I propose that we try to survive. We have to survive to make our mark. And we have to make sure our mark survives." He took a sip from his glass.

            The others, looking at him puzzled, but took each took a drink from their glass. Even Lily looked a little anxious. James put his glass down again. Then he grinned at them. "With that being said, Lily and I would like to make announcement."

            "They're getting married!" Sirius said.

            "Can't you be serious for one second?" James asked him crossly.

             "I-," Sirius started.

            "Don't even." James said. "We're, uh, we're, um, yeah so…"

            Lily stood up. "I'm pregnant."

            There was a stunned silence, then, "That's a good one. That was really believable. I commend you guys." Sirius said. 

            Lily's face was white. "I wasn't kidding." She looked like she was going to either start laughing or crying.

            Peter heard someone gasp. He was startled to find out it was him. 

            There were a few more seconds of silence. "Oh, god," Remus said, standing up. "Congratulations." Remus said, hugging Lily. 

            "Lily, how could you let that happen? What were you thinking, letting James become a father?" Sirius said, hugging Lily when Remus was done. He was hugging her so hard; she appeared to be having trouble breathing. "The poor kid!"

            "Congratulations, Lil," Peter said, getting up to hug her.

            "What, I don't get congratulations?" James said. Sirius went over and playfully punched his shoulder. 

            "James, what were you thinking? You can't be a father," Sirius said.

            Lily, finally deciding what to do, started crying.

            "What's wrong?" Peter asked her, feeling startled. "Aren't you supposed to be happy about this thing?"

            "Well, I can see that you would be anxious with James being the father- he is the father, right?" Remus said.

            Lily started laughing through her tears. "I'm going to kill you," she sobbed. 

            "Watch out, James," Sirius said warningly. "Remember when Andromeda was pregnant? She acted exactly like this."

            "Shut up," Lily sobbed again. 

            "Come, on, Lils, what's wrong?" Remus said, sitting next to her.

            Lily sniffled. "What was I thinking?"

            "Oh, Lil, we were just kidding. James won't screw it up too badly."

            "How do you know I'll screw it up?" James said. He sat on the other side of her and started rubbing her back. 

            Lily laughed a little again. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and rubbed her face. "How could I get pregnant now? The order stuff is dangerous, the world's dangerous. It's not safe. How could I protect it?" 

            They sat there thinking. Peter looked at Lily's red eyes. "Don't worry, Lily. That kid's going to go to Hogwarts, just like we did." 

            Lily looked up at him, and gave him a hug. "Thanks, Peter."**__**

Author's note. Don't you hate him?  I'm sorry, I had to add that last line in. Yeah, I know it was boring. It'll get better I promise. I just had to set up the premise and it took longer then I thought.  Also, when, Peter's on the train- I've never been to London, so I'm not really sure what that subway is like and I'm just assuming that it's like the ones I've been on. If it's wrong, I'm sorry. Also, I own nothing! I grovel eternally at JK Rowling's feet for not suing my sorry ass. I suggest you do the same. 


	3. Welcome to the Monkey House

Disclaimer: If I owned  this, I would be getting paid for this. Which, obviously I am not. It all belongs to the most excellent JKR. If people want to send me money, though, I certainly have no objections.

            Peter involuntarily stepped back from the door. Moody gave a snort of disgust. "Get in, you twats. Just waiting all day. Could've been seen." He muttered, walking down the hallway. Peter and Benjy quickly stepped in and shut the door behind them. At the shudder the door sent through the thin walls, Peter heard a clatter. He turned around quickly but it was only an empty bottle with a faded label that had rocked off of a window sill. Relieved, Peter turned back around to find himself nose to chin with Moody, who had his wand jutted into Peter's gut. "Constant vigilance!" He hissed. Orange sparks fell from the wand and rolled against Peter's stomach before hitting the floor and disappearing.

            "Yessir," Peter said quickly. Moody turned around and continued walking down the hallway. Benjy let out a quick snort of laughter beside Peter. Moody turned around and fixed Benjy with a steely glare with his beady eyes. Then he turned around and went into a room off of the hallway. Peter glanced at Benjy, who rolled his eyes at him.

            "There'd be none of that, Fenwick," Moody voice called out warningly.

            Benjy marched into the room, with Peter following him. It was an old kitchen, there was a dusty faucet in the corner between two counter tops and there were a few cupboards up near the ceiling, though some of them were missing doors. There was an old wooden table in the center. Without taking a glance at any of the people sat around it, Benjy walked up to Moody and planted his hand directly on the table in front of him. 

            "All right, give." Benjy said to Moody. Peter quickly wondered if he had gone mad. He glanced around hastily. There were already some people there. He quickly sat down next to Remus to avoid Moody's attention. "How did you know what I was doing? If you've got some way of seeing around corners… enlighten us." An amused smirk was playing on Moody's face and this seemed to cost Benjy some of his wind. "Well, I'm just saying, if you got a way of knowing things, you should let us know, too… you know. I mean, we're all on the same side. You… shouldn't be keeping us… out of things… you know?" Benjy faltered.

            Moody stared at Benjy. Benjy swallowed. Moody continued to glare at him, and arched one of his eyebrows. Benjy suddenly seemed to be looking at his hands and wondering what the hell he was supposed to be doing with them. Peter had never been so relieved that he had kept his mouth shut. Benjy started to sit down, not breaking eye contact with Moody, but feeling around for the chair frantically with his hands. The chair rattled and threatened to tip over, but Gideon Prewett, who had been sitting on the other side of it, reached forward and steadied it. Benjy sat down in it hard. 

            Moody had taken off his battered fedora and was inspecting it, and Peter was reminded of The Accountant, who had been fond of taking his pince-nez off of his nose and polishing them whenever he was asked a question he didn't care to answer because he thought it was beneath him.

            "Mr. Fenwick, how old are you?"

            Benjy blinked. "Twenty-two" 

            "Just entered the Auror program, right?"

            "Yes," Peter got the feeling that Benjy was about to be raked over the coals and never felt so glad that he was not someone else. He couldn't help feeling pleased that he had not been the one who had not done something stupid for a change. 

            "Haven't even had your own official field mission yet, have yeh? Moody growled.

            "No, sir, but-," 

            "Yeah, yeah, I know you've done field work for the Order, but that doesn't count for credit in Auror training, now does it?"

            "No, sir," Benjy said, examining his fingernails. 

            "But in my humble opinion, I believe that most twenty-two year olds know a thing or two. Even Pettigrew here has some common sense once in a while." Peter quickly glanced up. "Can't get angry over that, Pettigrew. Barely an insult. Death eaters say worse and you can't let your temper out over that." Peter stared at the scratches on the table. "Anyway, Fenwick, twenty-two, eh? I've been an Auror since before you've graced this planet your presence. It's long enough to pick up a thing or three about human nature. I don't pretend to know a hundredth of a percent of what I could know, but I know more than most. Enough to know how a twenty-two year old kid will react when faced with good advice from someone they don't want to hear it from." Moody went back to examining his hat, and Peter was reminded even more strongly of The Accountant, though he didn't think that it was in his best interests to tell Moody. "So, Fenwick, I cannot _give_ you the ability to see around corners. I don't have it. And I haven't found a way to skip over the time you need to get the knowledge of knowing what people are doing around those corners. You have it or you don't and if you do have it, you've worked for it." Moody replaced his cap. "Now Mr. Fenwick, you haven't had the common courtesy to greet your comrades in arms."

It took another ten minutes before everyone they expected to come to have arrived. It was impossible, of course, to expect everyone to be at every meeting. For one thing it was impracticable. For another, it just wasn't a good idea. Nobody outside the Order was to know of anyone in the Order. For the outside world, the Order just didn't exist. Even people who were in the Order didn't know exactly who was in the order. Dumbledore had told them that there were double agents. People who were in with Death Eaters were spying for the Order. For these agents' safety, no one, even in the Order, could know who these people were. But, if every week, the 'open' members of the Order, consistently weren't available for work, or weren't able to go out with friends, or be at home to eat dinner with the family, on the same night as other people in the Order were missing, and this happened on a regular basis; well, people would start to put two and two together. It wouldn't be long before the Death Eaters were able to put together a fairly accurate list of who was working against them. From there, there was only a short way to go for them to find a person to work as a spy for them. 

            Peter was standing in a corner talking to Caradoc Dearborn, who was showing him a picture of the baby his sister just had. The baby was still red, waving tiny pink fists towards the camera and alternately look like it was just about to fall asleep and opening its mouth in a soundless bawl. A shock of dark hair was already getting tangled into her fists when they traveled to her head. 

            Peter grinned at the photo. "She's pretty. What'd they name her?"

            Caradoc sighed at the baby, who looked just about ready to fall asleep. "Helen." He said softly. "I never thought of it for a name for a baby. Well, I've actually never thought of what I would name a baby, but you know. But Helen, I don't know, it always seemed to be a… a name you'd call a young lady or an old lady, or a teenager even, but a not a baby. It's too old for a baby. But they all got to start someplace, I guess. Just seems weird to be calling a little baby Helen. It's almost like calling it Mildred or Beatrice. Maybe they'll give her a nickname soon. But it's a good name."

            "Sure," Peter agreed. He was a little confused. He never thought of assigning an age to a name. What were Lily and James going to name their baby?

            Caradoc grinned at the photo again. "Aw, Jeeze, Pete, just look at her. Perfect right now. Not a thing wrong with her except she can't decide when she wants to sleep. The world's got no right to have her now. She's too perfect. Perfection doesn't exist in the world, and she'll have to adapt out of perfection. Pete, if—if _he doesn't stop, I'm afraid of what she'll have to adapt into."_

            Emmeline Vance came over then and Caradoc eagerly showed the picture to her. Peter stepped off to the side. He looked around and saw Frank Longbottom. Peter went over to talk to him. 

            "Hey Frank," Frank didn't respond. He was staring at something. Peter looked around the room for Alice. He didn't see her.

            "Hey Frank?" Frank still didn't say anything. Peter looked in the direction of where he was staring. It was the spot where he had been just a few minutes before. Caradoc and Emmeline were still standing there, and Emmeline was examining the picture, her eyes sparkling with delight. Peter had always thought that Emmeline was rather standoffish, but he supposed a baby could get anyone in a good mood. "Hey, Frank, where's Alice?"

            Frank blinked. "Oh, hullo Peter. What's going on?"

            "Not much. How are things with you?"

            "Oh, life's been… nice." An odd expression passed over Frank's face. He shook his head. "I saw you standing over there with Caradoc."

            "Yeah, he was showing me a picture. His sister just had a baby."

            "Yeah, I heard him saying." 

            "So where's Alice?"

            "Alice? Oh, uh, she and Marlene went out shopping for… stuff."

            "Stuff?"

            "Yeah, you know, stuff. You can't have too much… stuff, now."

            "Yeah, I guess." Peter said. "Look, there she is now."

            Alice and Marlene had entered the house. Alice went over to them, looking just as anxious as Frank did. "Did you get any…stuff?" Frank asked.

            "Yeah, I flooed it home before I came here."

            "You flooed it?" Frank's face suddenly went white. 

            "Well, I didn't go; I just sort of tossed it through."

            "But what if it goes somewhere else?"

            "Well, we'll just have to buy more… stuff." Alice said, looking at Peter. Peter got the hint and started to walk away. Just then, Sirius came from behind him, and started to steer him towards James and Lily, who looked like they were going to be sick.

            "They're going to tell everyone tonight," Sirius whispered out of the side of his mouth. 

            "They are?" Peter asked. They had been keeping it a secret and Peter was quite frankly proud of himself for being able to keep quiet. But Lily was getting along and it wouldn't be long before even her bulky winter clothes would hide whatever was coming. 

            "Have you guys told anyone else yet?" Peter asked when they got to James and Lily. Remus came up and joined them.

            "No, why?" Lily's face was chalk white. "Am I showing a lot?" she whispered in a panicked tone. 

            "No, it's just that Frank and Alice were acting weird. I thought that maybe you had told them."

            "No," James said, who was also examining Lily to make sure she wasn't showing.

            "Weird how?" Remus asked.

            "They just kept saying how Alice was buying 'stuff' and Frank was worried that the 'stuff' wouldn't get home." Peter answered.

            "Maybe they were planning on having a little fun tonight," Sirius suggested. 

            "What?" Peter asked.

            Sirius shrugged. "Well, that's how Andromeda and Ted talked before Nymphadora was born. I'd go and visit them, because, you know I was having so much fun at home, and they'd have to get the 'stuff' before night. They'd talk in euphemisms. As if I couldn't understand that they were going to get it on."

            "Sirius, get your mind out of the gutter. Besides, weren't you like ten when Nymphadora was born? How were you so well versed in the ways of the world?" Remus asked bemusedly. 

            "Never mind, it's just that's what 'stuff' usually means. Which reminds me. James, Lily, didn't you ever hear of this 'stuff'?"

            "Shut up," said Lily, whose face had gone red. Just then, Dumbledore had come in.


	4. Decent into the Maelstrom

"Who are you telling to shut up?" Sirius whispered to James out of the side of his mouth as the group surrounded the table.

            "You," James whispered back. "Since Dumbledore's here, everyone's going to get quiet, like they are now, and so everyone will hear what we're talking about."

            "I thought you were going to tell everyone tonight." Sirius whispered a little loudly. Peter noticed that everyone else had already found their way to the table and was looking over at them curiously. 

            "Yes," James hissed. "When we're ready!" he looked at Lily, who looked like she was going to be sick. At the table Dorcas Meadowes coughed politely. James gave a strained smile and they made their way to the table. 

            "Good afternoon," Dumbledore said to them all. "Anyone who has any news on Voldemort's--," Many people in the room, Peter included, cringed at the sound of the name.

            Dumbledore surveyed them a little sadly. "Please," he said.

            Peter looked down at his hands, pretending to examine a cut on his finger. 

            "I don't know why you don't just give up, Albus. Just call him You-Know-Who, or even the Dark Lord." Moody said in a bored tone. "It'd make these meetings go a whole lot faster then if we had these bits of fluff gasp in terror every time someone says the name Voldemort." Peter could feel Moody staring at him and his face turned red.

            Dumbledore tooled with the end of his beard. "Everything that exists is named or will be named when it is discovered. To not name something is to be ignorant of its existence.  To be ignorant of Voldemort would be deadly. Thus 'He Who Must Not Be Named' must be named. To call him the Dark Lord bestows on him respect that he does not deserve and I refuse to give it to him. And, well," Dumbledore smiled. "To call Voldemort You-Know-Who all the time would only get confusing. Eventually there will be someone else, perhaps the guest of honor at a surprise birthday party, who will have to be referred to as You-Know-Who. It would be an insult to his person to identify him with Voldemort, it would get bewildering for the people planning the party, and rather frightening for those invited. We must take Voldemort down if only for these purposes."

            Next to Peter Sirius was laughing. Peter could hear someone else laughing quietly. Peter looked up at Dumbledore. How could he make jokes about Vol- hell, he still couldn't do it, even when he was thinking. 

            Dumbledore was looking down at them with his eyebrows raised. "Well, I guess my sense of humor isn't as witty as I had hoped it would be. Alas, maybe in time it will improve, and we may all enjoy a good laugh. We must get back to business, however, though anyone with any with any new jokes may share them later. Perhaps I could pick up some pointers."  Peter looked around the table to see if anyone was following this. A few people were shaking their heads bemusedly; almost everyone else, however, was wearing similar expressions of bewilderment.

            "Come on, now, Albus," said Moody, the only person wearing an annoyed expression. "Get back to it." Peter had the feeling that Moody was the only person who would have felt comfortable saying that to Dumbledore.  

            "Quite right, Alastor," Dumbledore said mildly. "As I was saying, is there anyone with news on Voldemort's--," here he raised an eyebrow and Peter forced himself to not change expression. "And any Death Eater's movements?"

            "Well, you were saying that we should try and get more Aurors in." Elphias Doge said. "So I was keeping an eye on O'Brian. You know, he seems like a good kid and it looks like he knows when to keep his mouth shut. So I was keeping an eye on him, you know, to see if he was talking to Malfoy or Avery or any of'em that worked in the ministry."

            Dumbledore frowned. "Was he?"

            "Oh, no," Elphias said. "But every time I was near him, I'd see Rosier."

            There was a collective gasp around the table. 

            "Oh, I don't think he was tailing me, or O'Brian even. But I think he might be suspecting me. I had 'borrowed' an Invisibility Cloak to get here today."

            "That's bloody stupid." Moody growled. "Invisibility Cloaks aren't fool-proof. You should have just stayed away. You're going to get us all killed."

            Elphias' face took on a pained expression. "Moody, I couldn't get here last meeting, I can't go next meeting, under orders, if I recall correctly, from you. You've told us not to talk to each other in public unless it's necessary, unless we would have talked anyway. How was I supposed to be of any use if I'm absolutely in the dark?" He started wheezing. Hestia Jones stood next to him and started hitting his back. "Calm down, El. No need to get so excited." Moody turned around and rolled his eyes. After a few minutes, Elphias's breathing turned to normal but his face was red and Peter thought that he said something like "stupid asthma". 

            Moody fixed a cold glare on him. "Did you at least double back before you came here. Even a twat like you should be able to do that."

            Elphias took another deep breath out of the tube he had in his mouth and nodded. Moody leaned back in his chair, looking pacified. 

            Elphias put the tube back in his pocket. "I thought that it would be best if I left O'Brian alone for a while. For the good of everybody. You know, after what happened before." He said, taking half a glance at Alice, who looked like she was going to start crying. Frank rubbed her back. Elphias continued. "Sorry, Alice. Didn't mean anything by it." Alice nodded. "Anyway, I asked one of the courtiers if he knew where O'Brian was and where Rosier was. I asked him a load of other questions so he wouldn't get suspicious, don't worry Moody. Anyhow, they were in two different places."

            "Maybe Rosier's trying to recruit O'Brian." Benjy suggested. 

            "See, I thought of that too, but you know, O'Brian's a decent kid. I don't think he'd get mixed up in that stuff if he had a choice. And Rosier saw me, he knows I saw him, so if O'Brian was under the Imperious curse, Rosier knew that I'd be suspicious if I saw him around. So I don't think we have to worry about O'Brian, for a while, anyway."

            "Anything else?" Dumbledore asked. 

            "Well, I was thinking of asking Syme—," Elphias started to say, but was interrupted by Moody snorting. 

            "Syme? You'd be better off with Parsons."

            Elphias winced. "Well, anyway, he seemed rather boisterous. Draws too much attention to himself. I'm surprised they let him become an Auror." 

            "Be that as it may," Dumbledore said. "We can use all the help we can get. Keep an eye on him. O'Brian, too. Just keep your wits about you while you do so."

            Elphias nodded and sat down in a relieved sort of way.

            "Anyone else?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

            Peter could see Lily's hand on the table twinge slightly but she and James stayed silent.

            "Um," They all turned to look at Frank, who had stood up. "We—uh," Peter saw Alice shake her head almost imperceptibly at him. Frank swallowed. "Well, I just wanted to say that I haven't seen Rosier around any of the Aurors around me."

            There was half a beat of silence. "Good to hear, Longbottom." Moody's gruff voice said.

            Frank's face turned red and he sat down quickly. 

            "Anything else?" Dumbledore asked.

            "Um," Peter was surprised to hear Remus speak up. Usually if any of them had any news, they would tell each other before the meeting. He hadn't remembered Remus saying anything.

            "The Death Eaters are trying to recruit werewolves," he said, looking at his hands. "They've been having Macnair do it. Rather stupid choice, really…"

            Peter frowned. Had they asked Remus to join, or did Remus just hear about it from someone else?

            Remus looked up as though Peter had spoken these words out loud, but no one was looking at Peter so he must not have inadvertently spoken out loud. Remus suddenly grinned, though he really didn't look all that happy. "Well, at least that means they don't suspect me of being in the Order."

            "What--," Benjy started to ask, but Dumbledore interrupted him. 

            "Well, Remus if anything else happens, you'll tell me, is that right?" 

            "Yes, sir," Remus looked relieved and Peter was grateful that Dumbledore had prevented people from asking questions. 

            "Well, if that's all for new business, we'll just start figuring out who does what," Dumbledore said, looking questioningly at them. He paused for no more then one or two seconds but Peter still had the feeling that he was waiting for someone to say something. Peter wanted to look down at Lily or James but had the feeling that to do so would attract attention to them that they probably did not want. When no one spoke up, Dumbledore started to say "Well, then--,"

            Simultaneously Lily stood up and Alice said "Hold on," Peter looked quickly down at James, whose face was blanched. He swung around to look at Alice who looked petrified and bewildered as she stared at Lily in shock. Frank next to Alice looked like he was going to be sick. Lily herself looked determined. Her lips were in a firm line and she was staring at Dumbledore, though Peter noticed that her ears were turning red and was clutching the chair she had been sitting in so hard that her knuckles were white.

            Dumbledore was tooling around with his beard again. "Well, it appears that Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Longbottom have an announcement to make." They both stared at him. "Would you like to make it together or is it not the same announcement?"

            Alice's face was turning pink. "We're pregnant," she blurted. There was a gasp around the room. Lily's face turned red. Peter wondered how Alice knew if Lily didn't tell her. Lily wasn't showing that much was she? Next to Peter Sirius was whispering, "Oh, that makes sense." Alice took a quick look at Sirius. "I mean, Lily's not pregnant," Alice continued. Sirius snorted. Alice's face got redder. "Well, what I meant was, you know was that I'm pregnant and well, um, Frank's the father," Frank's face turned even redder, "So that would be the 'we', you know? But I didn't mean that Lily and I are pregnant. I mean, I didn't mean to say that Lily's pregnant." Alice had been talking faster and faster until she abruptly stopped and sat down, breathing loudly through her nose.

            Dumbledore smiled at Alice. "Congratulations, Mrs. Longbottom, I'm sure your child will be a credit to you both." Alice snuffled and put her head on Franks shoulder, who rubbed her back awkwardly. "We must have a celebration," Dumbledore continued. "But perhaps Mrs. Potter would like to share her news first." He turned his smile onto Lily. 

            Lily had returned her stare to Alice and she now had no color in her face or ears. "I _am_ pregnant," she whispered.

            "_What?" Alice said in a hushed tone._

            "I am pregnant," Lily said louder, but her voice started to break.

            "Well, then, this definitely calls for a celebration." Dumbledore said, taking out his wand, and the beat up table that they had been sitting around was covered with a yellow table cloth. 

            Suddenly there was an explosion of noise. People were clapping James and Frank on the back and hugging and kissing Lily and Alice. Lily and Alice found there way around the table and were hugging each other and sobbing uncontrollably into each other's shoulders. Dumbledore took out his wand again and there were drinks on the table. Seeing Peter's questioning look, he said "Butterbeer, so that the mothers-to-be can partake." 

            Moody stood up. He looked annoyed at the celebrating. Dumbledore quickly went over to him and whispered something to him. Moody nodded once and sat down, though he still looked annoyed and Peter wouldn't have liked to talk to him just then. A few minutes later, Dumbledore cleared his throat. Every one looked up at him, including Lily and Alice, who had still been crying into each other's shoulders.

            "Just out of curiosity, ladies, when are they due?"

            Lily looked at Dumbledore, her eyes all red and puffy. "Late July, maybe August."

            Alice started sobbing again. "Me too," They collapsed into each other's arms again. Everyone started crowding around them again. Peter glanced at Dumbledore again. Peter thought he saw an odd expression on his face, but someone passed in front of Peter's view and when he looked again, the look was gone, if it had even been there, and Dumbledore was smiling and making his way to Alice and Lily to offer his congratulations.


	5. Us and Them

After a while the excitement had died down a bit and everyone was sitting down again. Peter found himself looking at Dumbledore again. There was an odd silence around the room and Peter saw that almost everyone else was looking expectantly at Dumbledore. Peter looked at Dumbledore and saw that there was a small smile playing around his lips.

            Next to Peter, Sirius gave a quiet chuckle.

            "What?" 

            "Imagine if Dumbledore just says one day, 'I give up, you guys are on your own,' and just walks away." Sirius whispered back.

            "What's funny about that?" Peter asked, half horrified. 

            "Oh, nothing," Sirius said, shaking his head bemusedly. "But every time something unexpected comes up, we all look at Dumbledore. If he left, we'd be hopeless." Peter looked back up at Dumbledore, who was still smiling but now was looking at Sirius and Peter.  Peter dropped his eyes, suddenly feeling self conscious. Everyone laughed a little nervously. 

            "Well," Dumbledore said, and thankfully, all eyes turned back to him. "I think that we can all agree that, joyous news as this all is, we shall have to make certain provisions."

            Moody had been staring irritably at no one in particular, but that stare was a little too close to Peter's direction, and when Moody made an exasperated grunt, Peter couldn't help but jump a little.

            "Stupid, engaging in that foolishness when there's work to be done. Should have thought about it before." 

            A nervous laugh went around the room and the people who had done the foolishness were turning bright red again, if they had ever stopped. 

            "Of course these pregnancies are going to be an inconvenience for all involved."  Dumbledore looked like he was smiling a little under the beard. "But, as far as I've been able to discern, I haven't known of one that wasn't in some way or another. Granted, there are also more people involved, which would be an irritant for any mother. We all know that these are dangerous circumstances, to which no one should have to be exposed to, but Mrs. Longbottom and Mrs. Potter have already have faced them, and they have faced them courageously and not unsuccessfully. Since that is the case, we will leave it up to the Potters and Longbottoms to decide what their involvement is. We will accept it if Lily and Alice want to take a step back from dangerous missions and we will accept it if they want to step out entirely. That is their prerogative." 

            Alice said "Absolutely not." Lily shook her head violently. "I couldn't leave this after I knew it was here."

            Someone cleared their throat and Peter swung his head toward the end of the table. "James, Frank," Caradoc said, looking concerned. "Are you going to let them do that?" The photograph of the baby with black hair and the pink outfit popped into Peter's head. 

            Lily and Alice glanced at him perplexedly, and then glared at their perspective spouses. Frank laughed a little nervously. "I don't think we have much say on this one," a quiet desperation seeping into his voice. Alice shook her head gently. James hadn't even bothered to look at Lily. He smiled at Caradoc sadly. "In this case, I don't think I can stop what ever she decides to do."

            Dumbledore looked at Lily and Alice. "I don't think I need to waste time asking you again, but this isn't what may be called the average situation for expectant mothers to be in, but I don't think any of us would have thought to be in these circumstances. There is more at stake in this case. Your pregnancies may interfere with your duties with in the Order. Your duties within the Order will compromise your duties as an expectant mother and may compromise your health and that of the babies'. However, I have no doubt that you have the abilities to compromise neither. I also have no doubt," He said, looking toward the rest of them. "That the Order will be able to perform its duties just as well as it has been, if not better, because we are human, and humans are notorious for their ability to adapt." He sat down, and there were a few moments of awkward silence and someone cleared their throat. Dumbledore stood up again. "That was intended to be, as they say, the shot in our collective arm. For those of you who thought I'd something more to say, I'm sorry to disappoint."

            A quiet chuckle went through the room. Dumbledore nodded his head toward Moody, who brought out a piece of parchment from inside his coat. He spread it on the table and Peter saw that it was a map. Moody tapped it with his wand and everyone leaned closer toward the center of the table with the exception of those who were sitting close to Moody, which, given to Moody's demeanor, was just Dumbledore. Moody sat back in his chair and the lines on the map began to move from side to side. 

            "Between the information our 'sources'" Moody said, giving Dumbledore a look. "And the movements of the Lestranges and that sort, we know where the last few Death Eater meetings were. Doge has been saying that he thinks that there might be a pattern if we look at it long enough. I can't really say that I'm a fan of that type of work, so I thought that I'd leave all of you to it."

            Sirius grinned. "That's Moody's way of saying he can't find the pattern." He whispered to Peter.

            "I wouldn't talk, Black," Moody growled. "Not the way you handle yourself in the field. When you bring in one of them from the inner circle, and alive, then criticize me all you want,"

            Peter looked at Moody. That wasn't really something Moody would say.

            "For an hour or two." Down the table Benjy laughed, apparently relieved that someone else was getting chewed out by Moody.

            Moody tapped the map and a phantom of it spun upward from the map and spread itself open in the air. The lines were still wiggling across it. Everyone sat back and looked at it. Elphias took out a piece of parchment and a quill. He read information about locations highlighted on the map and the distances from each other and known Death Eater locations. Then Elphias picked up the quill and turned the parchment over to its blank side. People started giving suggestions about what to look for to discover a possible pattern. 

            Peter pretty much tuned it out. He would have never figured it out anyway, and personally he thought that the pattern theory didn't hold up. They probably picked their meeting places the same way the Order did, which was pretty much at random, the only logical rule was that it be fairly close to most of their homes, the rationale being that the less time they were traveling the less chance they took of being discovered. Peter was probably wrong about there being no pattern. He usually was wrong about these things. This wasn't really his area. His area was to provide cover for those listening in on the Death Eaters. He would also play occasionally what Sirius called the "super-secret agent" where, when they knew ahead of time where the Death Eater meetings were, spy on them. He, of course, used his own means to spy, but no one outside their immediate group knew that. Thankfully, Dumbledore had accepted that Peter had the ability to spy without being seen with out questioning it. He had, however, suggested that the rest of the group would not be so easy to accept it, and so when Peter was doing one of his super-secret missions, nobody outside of the immediate group and Dumbledore knew about it.

            Benjy pushed back from the table a little and the table shuddered. This brought Peter back to reality. 

            "There's just no pattern," Benjy was saying. "Or if there is, we don't have enough to see it yet. It's just impossible right now to see it."

            Sirius was grinning a little. "Nothing's impossible, Fenwick. You just have to look for the non-impossible way to a solution. There is always more then one solution."

            "Why do people around here get philosophical at the most random times?" Benjy asked rhetorically.

            "Gentlemen," Dumbledore said, smiling. "I am not saying to do the impossible. Or to find the solution to the impossible. I am asking you to do the best you can. We cannot accept anything less. To do so would be to risk killing us all and those that we love. However, I cannot ask anything more. It is the impossible, and we have to remember that after all we're only ordinary men. And women," he said, nodding toward Lily and Alice.

Author's note: I know it's been almost a month. I know the last time I posted I said I'd make an effort to post quicker. However, I have very good reasons for my hiatus. For the past three weeks the Red Sox have been this close, THIS CLOSE, to getting into the World Series, I have been sick twice, once so bad I almost had to go to the hospital, and I had midterms. Personally, I would have preferred hospitalization to midterms. I could have dealt a lot better if the Red Sox were in the World Series, but we are beyond that (mumbles incoherently with the word 'Yankees' repeated many times). If any non-Americans are reading this, assume that I am a crazy New Englander. Which I am.


	6. We're more equal

A few months later…

            Peter sat at his station in the main hall at the Ministry. Today, it was his job to weigh wands of visitors and pass the mareograph over them. He didn't mind the job too much, especially compared to the fairly boring job of walking the halls. Walking the halls was pointless really. With all the protective spells on the ministry, if anyone had managed to get through those, they were certainly smart enough to avoid the watchman. At least at the desk, you got to greet people as they came in, sometimes see old friends or acquaintances. Walking the halls, you had to be constantly moving, especially with the heightened security required since the first attacks had begun, and thus were not allowed to stop, take breaks, or converse with friends in other departments. Peter, being privy to the information gathered in the order, knew that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was neither strong enough nor stupid enough to attack the ministry, especially in broad daylight. Of course, he really wasn't in a position to pass this information to the higher-ups, even if Moody wouldn't kill him on the spot if he found out. So, Peter continued to walk the halls.

            Not today, though. Today, he got to sit in the relatively comfortable chair and do a task, that, even for him, required little concentration and with the steady flow of visitors, reporters, people involved in hearings, temporary employees, the day passed fairly quickly. Really, Peter only had a few problems with it. The first problem was that with the number of people passing through, he was bound to see old friends and acquaintances, and more often then not, these old friends and acquaintances were things like lawyers going in to represent clients, reporters from the _Daily Prophet going in to interview various high ranking officials, or someone representing a group that was trying to pass a law or decree or bill and were on their way to tell a ministry official that they would love to take them out to dinner, money-no-object, and while they were at it, just for the hell of it, discuss the favorable points of proposition 14 or whatever. _

            The problem was that these old friends and acquaintances, mostly acquaintances, really, were usually making two or three times what Peter was making; and people on both sides of the desk knew it. This was never out-rightly stated, of course, but Peter never thought that his ears would burn quite so much after he answered the inevitable question: "Peter, you still work down here?" That question always annoyed him. Wasn't it obvious that he still worked there? What was he supposed to say, "No, actually, I'm senior assistant to the Minister of Magic, but I enjoyed this job so much that I missed it and I do it for fun in my spare time," And what were they implying, that it wasn't a good job, that it wasn't prestigious job? Hell, he helped protect the most important place for magic people in Britain in one of the most dangerous times in history. How many of them were up for that job? 

            After the pleasantries were exchanged and the inevitable question was asked, another question would be asked, usually by those he attended school with and were in the same grade with, especially. "What have James, Sirius, and Remus been up to lately?" or "What are the other three doing these days?" "Is James and Sirius still in the Auror program, is Remus still doing the research for that publishing company?" Because, in Hogwarts, you know, you didn't see one without the others, so presumably it was the same way, even though they had been out of school for four years.

            Yes, he'd say. James and Sirius are still in the Auror program. They've started the field missions. Yes, Remus just got back from a trip to China for field work on the affects of grindylows and hinkypunks on the rice paddies. Interesting work, that.

            Oh, they'd say. What kind of missions are they going to go on? Or: He went all the way to China? How long did he get to go for?

            And he'd reply, Usually, they don't say, you know, don't ask don't tell. A lot of times they don't even know until just before they leave. He only goes for two or three weeks at a time. He comes back to report the information, he says it's better in person. He's home for a while, now, he's going to do proofreading for a couple of months.

            Oh, that's great. And they'd go off to wherever they were going, smiles everywhere, no doubt remembering some of the stunts that had always seemed associated with Sirius, James and Remus. Sometimes they'd turn around and glance at Peter, a confused look mixing in with the amusement. If they saw Peter looking at them, they'd smile and wave and continue on. 

            Just once, Peter would like to say something else. "Oh, James and Sirius? Their next mission is going to be providing protection for the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts* during a diplomatic meeting with the Canadian head. Because, you know, those Canadians are pretty ruthless. You never know what they're going to try."** "Yeah, Remus got to go all the way to China. But he only got to for three weeks, you know, because of his _situation, its better if he's at home. Oh, you didn't know about his little problem? Let me tell you…"_

            Just once.

            An hour or two or three later, Peter would start to feel guilty. He'd think about the acquaintance that had been smiling and try to guess what prank they were thinking about. He'd go through the possible pranks and he'd start to smile himself. He'd remember all the planning that had gone into them and the looks of annoyance or anger on the prank's recipients, and the looks of astonishment on those present, and then the amazed looks at dinner or breakfast the next day, when the whole school had found out. He would remember his roles in the pranks, which would be the actual performance of the prank, since usually no one would remember him being there. 

            The image of the acquaintance's confused smile floated back into his minds. And Peter would shake his head as he realized that the reason people had trouble understanding why he fit in that group was the same reason why he was in that group. And he would feel disgusted with himself until the next acquaintance came, usually within an hour or so. 

            "Pettigrew? Peter? Are you all right?"

            Peter sat up, startled. Someone vaguely familiar was standing in front of the desk. To his relief, it wasn't an "acquaintance". It was bad enough being badgered about his friends. It would be worse to be badgered after his lack of focus was noticed and commented on. Last week, the mareograph had registered that a person had performed a curse within the past day and it started buzzing loudly, and alarms sounded automatically from the devices on the walking guards' wrists. It turned out that the guys were a few researchers from the experimental magic department and had forgotten to use the special wands they were supposed to use. When the alarms started going off, they panicked and ran down the hall. There was panic for a while, during which the members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad that were permanently stationed, their reinforcements, and any Aurors that happened to be in the building searched for them, while security personnel watched the doors and kept the peace with the employees of the ministry, who had been evacuated into the main hall and lobby. They turned themselves over within twenty minutes or so, but after the excitement was over, the security staff was chewed out about the whole "fiasco". Peter, thankfully, hadn't been on desk duty that day. The guy responsible for that had a month's leave without pay. It still wasn't good that he was caught snoozing, especially if the wrong person had seen him.

            "Good morning," He stammered to whoever had said his name, he wasn't sure who it was, though he definitely looked familiar. He had light brown hair, and seemed a bit taller than Peter was, though Peter couldn't tell from his position sitting at the desk.  He was a bit heavily built, and looked to be a little older then Peter, maybe thirty or so. His robes were well fitted black ones. He was holding out his wand by the tip for Peter to take and weigh. 

            "How's your day going?" He asked as Peter took the wand. "No close calls?"

            "No, it's been pretty quiet," Peter said. "How have you been today?"

            "Can't complain, can't complain," The man said as he took the wand and the slip of paper Peter gave him. He stood still as Peter passed the mareograph over him. "Bet it wasn't that quiet when those guys got in the other day, eh? At least it wasn't you who was at the desk, eh?"

            Peter looked at him. How did he know where Peter was that day?

            The man noticed Peter's questioning look and chuckled. "Andrew O'Brian, remember, Pettigrew?"

            "Oh, yeah," Peter said. He had a vague connection in his mind that O'Brian worked in the department that arranged for contracts for various ministry projects. Peter wasn't sure the official name of the department was. Whenever someone was talking about it, they described usually as the award committee for rich people. Peter was just guessing that it wasn't really the title of it. "How have you been doing, O—O'Brian?"

            "Oh, I've been well, you know, job stress and all, but what are you going to do?"

            Peter nodded. "Wait a minute, why are you coming in through this way? Why aren't you going through the Floo network?"

            O'Brian rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "My connection's not connecting that well. Never know where I'm going to end up. Going to have a guy come in and look at it today. Never can count on anything anymore, you know?" He waved his hand. He glanced at his watch. "Listen, Pettigrew, I've got to run. But I got a favor to ask you. My boss," he patted his chest as though Peter didn't get the idea that it was his boss. "Has been encouraging interdepartmental relations. Really riding me about it, you know? So I said, Howard, that's his name, Howard," Peter nodded, getting rather confused. "I says, 'Hugh, I'll get on it tomorrow.' My idea was the first person whose name I knew, I would talk to. You're the first person I saw that I knew, and here I am. Do you have a break today?"

            "Er, yes," Peter said.

            "Great," He passed a card over to period with a picture and a flashing number on it. "That is my office number, come and see me on your break. Has to be my office or else I won't get credit from Howard. That's Howard for you, has to see it and hear it," He reached across the desk and clapped Peter on the shoulder. "So, just come up when you've got a chance. We'll discuss interdepartmental relations or whatever,"

            Peter barely had time to nod before O'Brian started walking away. 

            Suddenly, he realized something. O'Brian was the name of the person Elphias had been trailing. 

*- I am not putting down Arthur Weasley. I think he's great. Besides, he's Fred and George's father; he's got something going for him right there. I'm just saying that the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts is not the most prestigious, assassin-worthy job in the ministry. Besides, I don't think he works there yet.

**- I am also not making fun of Canadians. I am half Canadian myself. It's just, when was the last time there was a Canadian terrorist in the news?


	7. A Rat in a Cage

Peter wasn't sure what he should do. Had O'Brian figured out that Elphias had been tailing him and somehow connected Peter to him? But Peter never talked to Elphias outside of the Order meetings. He scarcely would have known him had it not been for the Order. If O'Brian somehow connected Peter with Elphias, then it wasn't too hard to connect Peter to the rest of the members of the Order. If O'Brian was working with the Dark Lord, then Peter's days were definitely numbered. If he was, why weren't Death Eaters swooping down on him where he sat? Peter nervously scanned the lobby for people he knew were Death Eaters. No, wait, that was ridiculous. They wouldn't kill him where he sat. That would be too obvious. O'Brian had made sure that Peter would come to his office. The second Peter would step into the door he would be hit with a hex so strong his head would explode. O'Brian was probably putting down stain repelling charms right now. 

            Peter scanned the room for anyone in the Order so they could tell him what to do. But out of the masses of people in the room, where it would seem likely that there would be at least one person from the Order, there wasn't anyone. Maybe he should go up to the Aurors' offices and ask Moody what to do. No, that was stupid. Moody would chew him out for going to talk to him, when in regular circumstances, Peter Pettigrew would be too scared to go and talk to Moody voluntarily. It would attract attention if Peter were to go and talk to him. Plus Peter didn't like the idea of leaving his post at the desk. That would definitely attract attention. Not to mention the fact that he would most certainly be fired. He wasn't exactly looking for a chance to be chewed out by Moody, his bosses, and fired all on the same day. On the other hand, maybe O'Brian was telling the truth. Maybe his boss was encouraging interdepartmental relations, and O'Brian, getting annoyed that his boss kept asking him to get on it, resolved to ask the first person he knew to come up and meet with him, and Peter just happened to be the first person he saw that he knew, however distantly. Very distantly, come to think of it. They had met once that Peter could remember, maybe twice, and that had only been in passing. Out of all the people that had been standing in the lobby, there should have been someone O'Brian knew better then he knew Peter. 

            He had two hours until his break came. He would be able to think of something in two hours. Something would come up.

Two hours later… 

            Peter was standing in front of a white door. The brass number that was mounted on the wall next to it matched the number on the card in Peter's hand. Under the number was a metallic plate with "A. O'Brian" etched into it. Peter raised his hand nervously and lightly tapped the door, barely making a noise. Peter waited half a beat, hoping that O'Brian wouldn't come to the door and Peter could say later that he knocked on the door but no one had answered, and well, you only get so much break time, don't want to waste it knocking on an empty office door. But then Peter heard creaking inside the room. He quickly looked down the hall, seeing if he had enough time to run down to the main corridor, but the door opened. 

            "Pettigrew, barely heard you!" O'Brian said, firmly grasping Peter's hand and pulling him into the office. "Why don't you sit down?" He said, pushing him into a leather chair that faced the desk. O'Brian turned around and closed the door. Peter thought he heard the click of a lock. Peter tried to suppress the panic that was rising in him and instead tried to look as though he was casually admiring the décor. There were thick red curtains framing the window, which showed a night sky, although Peter's watch showed that it was 12:30 in the afternoon. There was a thick red carpet and the desk was trimmed in red leather, as was the trim on the walls. _There's no need for stain-repelling charms, the blood wouldn't show up in all of this,_ Peter thought. 

            O'Brian noticed Peter looking around. "Yes, it is rather intense, isn't it? I've always had a propensity for red. Stems back from my Hogwarts days. You know, red and gold. You were in Gryffindor, weren't you, Pettigrew?"

            Peter nodded, wondering how he knew that. As far as he could tell, O'Brian had graduated before Peter had begun. 

            "Ah, we have to watch out for each other then. Gryffindors always stick together, don't we?"

            Getting more bewildered by the minute, Peter nodded, not sure what else to do. He eyed the door nervously. "Where's your boss?" He asked suddenly; glad to find a way to get the conversation on predictable footing.

            O'Brian smiled even more widely then he had before. This was clearly intended to put Peter at ease, but Peter was feeling more and more nervous. "I plum forgot this morning that Howard wasn't going to be in today."

            "Oh, well, I'll just be going then," Peter said quickly, trying to ignore the trapped feeling in his stomach. "I mean, no sense in me wasting your time if you won't get credit for it, eh?" Peter had turned to the door even before he remembered thinking it. But just as he thought, the knob wouldn't turn.     

            "Peter, sit down, will you?" O'Brian started to rise from the desk. 

            "Why? I mean, you're good company and all, but…"

            O'Brian had walked around the desk and across the room to where there was a filing cabinet. O'Brian opened it and, to Peter's surprise, took his wand out of his belt and dropped it inside. Then he took a set of keys from inside his pocket and locked each of the drawers. Then he tossed the keys over to Peter, who surprised, fumbled with them. 

            "Go over and try to open them without using the keys. Even use Alohamora if you feel like it."

            "What are you doing?" Peter asked.

            "Just go over and try to open them. I'm trying to show you that I'm not going to hex you into oblivion. You're armed; I'm not." 

            Peter, never remembering being this confused in his life, went over and tried to open each of the drawers. Then he tried _Alohamora. The filing cabinet glowed blue for a moment, then returned to normal, with the drawers still locked._

            "Now will you sit down, please?" O'Brian asked pleasantly, gesturing toward the seat that Peter had vacated.

            Peter sat down. "What are you doing?"

            O'Brian leaned across the desk confidentially. "Pettigrew, I have to confess. I'm afraid I called you up here on a ruse. Howard has not been riding me about interdepartmental relations. You were not the first person I came across that I knew this morning. My Floo connection is working fine. But I'm sure you already considered those possibilities. In fact, I was afraid that you wouldn't come up here, or that you wouldn't come by yourself, or you would tell someone." 

            Peter wasn't sure where this was going, but Moody had drilled into him that until the other person gives up some actual information, you don't give any up either. 

            "Peter, I know what you're doing," 

            Peter felt his face blanche and then flush very quickly.

            "What are you talking about?" Peter asked in a forced calm voice. 

            "I'm not an idiot, contrary to what your group thinks," O'Brian said, chuckling a little. 

            "My group?" Peter said, trying to sound as though he didn't know what O'Brian was talking about. 

            "Come on now, Peter. I know you're not an idiot either, or else you wouldn't be in that group. The Order, Peter, the Order. Yes, I know about the Order," he said, before Peter could issue any denials. 

            "How do you know about the Order?" Peter asked, feeling as though he should try to keep denying things.

            "Peter, even if I didn't know about the Order, your Elphias Doge and _his _Rudolf Rosier* following me every time I leave the office would be slightly obvious, don't you think?" O'Brian said, smilingly. "As for how I know about the Order, do you think that it's the only group working separate from the Ministry? We just happen to know different information then you lot do." 

            "So, what?" Peter said, trying to think fast. "Blackmail? Money in exchange for not telling his supporters who we are? Because it's not going to work. For one thing, I'm broke, and for another, I could just as easily sell you out." 

            O'Brian chuckled. "No offense intended, Peter, but I doubt you would willingly go to a Death Eater to sell information. And, no, we are not interested in money, we don't buy information, and truthfully, I'm not exactly happy about the idea about willingly conversing with a Death Eater about your capture. No, I was thinking more along the lines of joining forces."

            "Joining forces?" Peter asked stupidly.

            "Yes, joining forces. I'm sure your group has realized, as my group has, that those who actively oppose He Who Must Not Be Named are too few and spread too thin. My group deals in information, which is why we try to keep a low profile. Your group has higher profile members, like Moody and Dumbledore, which is why we haven't tried to contact you before. But the situation being as it is, I believe it is better to join forces."

            "You believe?" Peter asked, wondering why he wasn't speaking in the plural.

            "Er, yes," O'Brian said abashedly. "Many members of my group are rather stubborn. They really aren't 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' types. They want to stay separate. Won't see reason, I'm afraid. I've managed to convince a few others, though. They're a little bit on the fence, though, which is why it just had to be one person that we contacted."

            "Why me?" Peter asked.  

            "We thought that the easier the person was to contact, the better. You are in the most constant contact with the public, and if someone were to stop and shall we say, chew the fat with you while you were scanning them, nobody would think anything was amiss. You also live in a Muggle neighborhood, in the city no less. They no doubt think you're strange for your style of dress, but other then that, you don't draw much attention People dress odder then that in the city. Whereas if you lived in a wizarding neighborhood, people would know who you are and if one of us were to come and see you, they wouldn't know who we are either." O'Brian looked at his watch. "Your break is winding down. Perhaps we could meet again. That will give you time to think about it. When you've made your decision, you can tell me. I'll be coming through the visitor's entrance the rest of the week and part of next. That's how long it will take to 'fix' my Floo connection. I'm afraid I must make one condition."

            "What's that?"

            "I mentioned that my group isn't exactly thrilled about a possible alliance. If they found out we were in the process of setting one up, they would be rather peeved. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone in your Order, because, since my group deals in information, there is the possibility they would find out about it."

            "How can there be an alliance if no one knows about it?" Peter asked.

            "Oh, of course you tell after we have our meeting. I'm just asking that you not tell anyone before our meeting. I'm not asking that you sign a contract. I'm just asking that you find more out before you do," O'Brian beamed. "And you don't have to go to this meeting. If you decide it's not worth your time, you just tell me so before my Floo network gets fixed. If you decide it's worth your while, just let me know. I'll let you go now. You would probably like to actually have a break before you go back on duty." 

            Peter nodded. "The next time I have desk duty is Friday. I'll let you know then." He got up to go, still trying to process the information he had just received. 

            "Pettigrew?" 

            Peter turned around. 

            "My keys?"

            "Oh," Peter fished them out of his pocket. O'Brian took them from him and opened the drawer and took his wand out. He pointed at the door and Peter could hear the lock click and the door swung open.

*Does anyone know what Rosier's first name is? I chose Rudolf because Rudolf Hess was a Nazi leader, not because of the reindeer or because of alliterative purposes. I know there are a lot more Nazi leaders, but Rudolf Hess and Herman Goering were the only two I could remember off the top of my head and Herman Rosier just sounds weird.

For any of my regular reviewers whom I doubt came back to this story after such a long hiatus, I'm sorry. I grovel at your feet. It's just been ridiculous. I had  a lot of end of the semester projects and papers and then there are my lovely finals, which I will not speak of. School's off for a month, so hopefully I'll get a few more chapters in. I should probably let you know that I have not made up one single name in this story, or at least haven't made them up out of the blue. I have drawn inspiration and names from other literary works by authors other then J.K. Rowling, as well as real life people (see * above). I hope I haven't offended ff.net's sensibilities by doing so. I'll let you know where the names come from later. In the meantime, guess. I can't tell you now because I don't know what they all will be. Anyway, Merry belated Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Happy New Year, Boxing Day, etc. Bah Humbug.   


	8. Futility

            Peter numbly made his way down the numerous hallways and elevators that led back to the lobby. He really didn't know what to think. He never considered the possibility that there were other groups fighting against the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. The situation always seemed cut and dry. There was the Order of the Phoenix and then the official Aurors for the ministry. The _Daily Prophet hadn't reported any other events or attacks to Death Eaters that couldn't be traced to the Order or Aurors. _

            Of course, the _Daily Prophet _and the general magical community didn't know anything about the Order. Barnabus Browning, the minister of magic, wasn't all that happy about the Order. He never out right said anything like that. That would have meant admitting that the Order existed. But even Peter could tell. At first, when You-Know-Who and his followers started attacking on a large scale, the _Daily Prophet would diligently report on each attack, going into the atrocities committed with gruesome details. There would be pages devoted to those who were lost, whether they were victims or Aurors summoned to the scene. Almost immediately, though, there would be gaps in testimony. Muggles who were nearby and somehow survived had already had their memories partly obliterated by curiously strong memory charms. Witches and wizards would curiously find that they could only remember up to a certain point. Any attempts to remove the memory charms would incur the risk of permanently damaging the memory and losing the remaining memories that could be used as evidence. _

            At first these articles would pose questions to the readers. Was there anyone who knew what happened, anyone who had been present but hadn't come forward? They wouldn't be charged with anything. They could remain anonymous. Then the newspaper would resort to flattery. There wasn't anything wrong with being able to do memory charms, after all. Proficiency in them was something to be proud of. And being able to do them in the technique shown suggested advanced ability in charms. 

            When adulation failed, out right threats were printed. Ministry investigators were on the verge of finding out who had performed the memory charms. There was a narrow list of suspects and it was quickly growing narrower. Ministry officials were interviewing them at a fast clip. After all, it was only using _Prior Incantato until the memory charm came up. It was best to come out now and get lighter punishment. The offense, after all, was tampering with a crime scene. _

            When the threats came out, Sirius thought that was one of the stupidest claims the Ministry would make. "Really," he had said. "First they were saying, there was nothing wrong with doing the memory charms. Then, it was memory charms are great, the best thing since the first flying broomstick. Now they're going to imprison whoever does a memory charm."

            "It isn't really a reasonable threat." Remus had pointed out. "There are a lot of people who would have a perfectly innocent reason for doing a memory charm. The people in the  Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, for one. And it isn't like they can tell who the memory charm was used on. It just shows that the wand performed a memory charm. Once a memory's obliterated, you can't re-obliterate it."

            At the same time the apathy, flattery, and hostility was being printed, the newspaper was praising the Auror department, and Alastor Moody in particular, for being on the scene of attacks seemingly seconds after they happened. A young reporter named Rita Skeeter in particular noticed these coincidences and she was the one who reported on them. She obviously didn't know the way things went, and she made joking references to Moody having the third sight. At the next meeting, Moody said that he would curse anyone who mentioned the article. James said that he said the same thing to all the Aurors. The only reason Moody didn't hex Rita was that Dumbledore pointed out that the hexing of a reporter by an Auror would attract a lot of attention and likely would cost Moody his job, which wasn't something that the Order could afford right now. 

            The "coincidences," nevertheless, had been noted. It was only a matter of time before someone made the connection between the lapses in memory and Moody's "third sight." Evidently, someone within the ministry did, and they, whoever it was, went right to Barnabus Browning, who, going on the correct assumption that Dumbledore was involved with whatever Moody was doing, went to talk to Dumbledore. Dumbledore explained later that he preferred telling the truth whenever possible because that cut down on the things he had to remember. 

            Dumbledore told the Minister that there was a group working to thwart Vo- You-Know-Who and yes, that group occasionally had information that they fed to Moody. That was the extent of it. Other then Moody, since his name was already present, Dumbledore had not mentioned anyone in connection with the Order. He had not even named the Order to Browning. 

            For reasons beyond Peter, these facts angered the Minister. Dumbledore said that he believed that if the group were made public, the wizarding community would think that those who opposed the Death Eaters and their leader were divided. The Minister felt that would expose a weakness that could too easily be exploited. James said that the Minister either didn't see the advantages of forcing a two-front war onto the opponent or the fact that they really weren't divided, seeing as they were fighting the same enemy.

            At any rate, Peter had never heard of any other group fighting You-Know-Who. The Order and the Ministry/Aurors. That was it. No one had ever seen anything in the _Daily Prophet that couldn't be explained by some action by either the Order or the Aurors. Then again, O'Brian had said that his group focused on gathering information, not out right attacking the Death Eaters. But why get information if they weren't going to use it? Moody or anyone else in the Aurors hadn't mentioned suspiciously consistent tips from anonymous sources. And if anything was remotely suspicious, Moody would smell it a mile away._

            He sighed. Common sense said that this was a stupid idea, to go meet with these people. Common sense had also said, however, that when he joined the Order he would be dead in two weeks. Common sense also said that Peter Pettigrew was one of the least likely people to be an illegal animangus. There were a lot of instances where common sense was wrong and sheer dumb luck prevailed.

            There was something not too reassuring about that.  

            When he got home that night, he hadn't come up with anything. There was no way that he could reason it out. He never was the kind of person who could rationalize things out. He couldn't talk to the others, where they would figure out a way out. They could be sure. They could either say "No, that's a stupid idea. Are you out of your mind for considering it?" or "Of course you should. We need any help we can get." He groaned out loud. Why did it have to be him? Why couldn't it have been anyone else? 

            He made himself a cup of tea in the hopes that it would make his mind stop running around in circles. When it didn't work he was seriously considering adding firewhiskey to the tea and was hunting for a bottle when there was a knocking at the door. 

            Peter looked through the peephole and then pulled the door open. "Hey Prongs."

            "Hey Pete," James said, going into the flat. There was a scorch on the hem of his robes and the other side was tattered. James had a cut under his left eye. 

            "Tough day?" Peter asked. 

            James shook his head wearily. "We had a bit of a slow day. First one in the longest time. So we thought we'd have a bit of a rest. I mean, we deserved it, you know." He gave a tired chuckle. "You know we're out of it when we think Moody's going to let us rest."

            "Moody did that to you?" Peter said, looking at the cut.

            "Well, not Moody, really. The wall he tried to make me walk through under the Imperius Curse did. Bastard was putting us through it again. I managed to throw it off at the last second and went through the door, but kind of hit the doorway at the same time." James tapped his nose tenderly. 

            "Can I get you anything? Painkillers or something? Have you cleaned it yet?"

            James waved his hand. "Lily enjoys fixing them. She pretends that she doesn't, but she does. You know how she wanted to be a healer. Anyway, doesn't really hurt."

            "So what's going on?" Peter asked him. 

            James lowered his voice a little. Maybe he thought that there was someone listening in the hallway. "There was a meeting last night. It was one of the surprise meetings Moody springs. It was your turn to miss one, so that's why we didn't tell you."

            Peter was a little surprised. He had planned to skip meetings before, but never had been intentionally left out. "So what went on?"

            "You know, the same old same old. The meeting really wasn't about anything. You know constant vigilance and all that." James gingerly tapped his nose again. "I should have seen this coming."

            "So that's it?" Peter said, frowning slightly. He had hoped that Moody or Dumbledore or someone had mentioned something about O'Brian's group. 

            "They actually did say that there might be a lull coming up. Didn't think that applied to Aurors, though. Anyway, Dumbledore's spies haven't heard any news of the Death Eaters planning attacks. You know, big ones. Dumbledore was saying that this was probably the calm before the storm, so we shouldn't think that there's a nothing going on and to still be careful." James grinned. "I personally don't think that its huge news, but I said I'd tell you about it."

            Peter nodded. "Ok, thanks." 

            "No problem." James got up to leave. 

            "How's Lily feeling?" Peter asked, going to the door with him. 

            "She's doing fine. She likes eating the weirdest things, though. Yesterday she wanted lobster for breakfast. For one thing, she never liked lobster. She said it was like eating a huge red bug. And I had no idea where to get lobster. The only place I knew where to get lobster was at restaurants. None of those seafood places are open at seven in the morning."

            "How are you doing?" Peter asked. James had kept running his hands through his hair, sure sign he was anxious.

            "I'm doing great, nothing wrong here." 

            "James, how are you doing?" Peter asked again.

            James, whose hand was at that very moment running his hand through his hair again, withdrew it and started laughing. "If I lie, I should lie to someone who's known me less then ten years. Pete, I'm nervous as hell. I was actually awake this morning before Lily woke up trying to guess what she wanted to eat. Frank keeps saying Alice is doing the same thing, but I've got this idea into my head that if I don't get Lily what she wants right away, the baby's going to be sick when its born. And I can laugh about it right now and thinks its ridiculous, but when I get home, I'll be doing whatever she wants me to do before you can say 'whipped.' And its not just that. Lily's going to kill me soon. She says I'm treating her like she can't walk."

            "I never thought I'd see the day." Peter said, shaking his head.

            "You know," James said, with a mock thoughtful expression. "A lot of people have been saying that. Anyway, I've got to get going." James reached for the door.

            "Hey, James," Peter said before he thought about it.

            "Yeah?"

            "Has- has there ever been an anonymous tip called into the Aurors? You know, really anonymous, like we know it didn't come from one of us?"

            James thought for a moment. "Well, yeah, there's always anonymous tips. But most of them are just like they saw Voldemort in a strip joint or something like that. I think that since I started my training there have only been two or three real anonymous tips that actually led to Death Eater activity. Why?"

            "No reason," Peter said quickly, but he felt the tips of his ears turn red.

            James grinned. "More super-secret spy stuff, eh?"

            "Yeah, sort of. I'm not really sure at the moment."

            "Well, good luck. You don't need it though." James said, giving him an encouraging smile. "You haven't steered us wrong yet."

A/N: Augh! That was boring as hell! I'm my own worst critic. I'm tempted to flame myself. Anyway, if you managed to get through this drone of a chapter, you deserve an award. On the other hand, I updated in little over a week. A personal best for me on this story.

Templa Otmena:  I never actually realized that I was doing what you said I was doing until you said I was doing it. Wait, did that make sense… Anyway, now that you pointed it out, I realize that there is one easy thing about writing this fic. We really don't know much about Peter, other then he is a bast— a jerk. Emotions for me are hard to write and as of right now, I don't have to do a lot of emotions. If I did any of the other character's perspectives, I would have to write the emotions in. But as of now, any emotions Peter is experiencing, other then anxiety, he is experiencing second-hand. If I knew more about Peter's past, I might have had to make him react more emotionally.

J Potter: Wow, someone is actually waiting by their computer for me to update. Are you feeling ok? Do you have the flu? Brain fever? Just kidding. Thanks for your review. 


	9. Gamma

            Peter closed the door after James, and he could hear a soft "pop" just outside his door that meant that James had Apparated. Peter had anti-Apparation charms on his apartment; James had put them there himself. Granted, they weren't as strong as the ones around the others' places, but if for some reason a wizard wanted to Apparate into a Muggle apartment house and found that he couldn't, they'd get suspicious. 

            "I haven't steered them wrong yet," Peter repeated to himself. That was mostly true. When he was spying on Death Eaters as a rat, he hadn't picked up any false information. When he came back and reported to Dumbledore, he told him everything that he had heard, even the stuff that he thought wasn't important. Since Peter's spying on the Death Eaters was purposely random, whenever they were ambushed by the Order or Aurors acting on "anonymous" tips, hopefully thought that it was just their bad luck. 

            Getting information like that was different, though. The people he was getting information on weren't meant to know about him. They weren't meant to know that he was there, they weren't meant to know that he ever was there. This situation was different. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was a trap, that going into this would be like saying "Hey, you guys! You can come kill me now! Or torture me senseless! Whatever suits you!"

            On the other hand, he had felt this way when he had first started spying for the Order. He was sure that he'd be spotted. After all, _he's got dark powers most people could only dream of. Surely he could see through an animangus disguise. So far, it had worked out, though. Maybe no one had noticed the rat. After all, sometimes the places the Death Eaters met weren't in better shape then the Order's. A rat sometimes wasn't really out of place. And he did do a good job of hiding, if he did say so himself. _

            This, though, he couldn't do it as a rat, or under an invis… Suddenly Peter thought of something and for a moment he was sure his heart stopped beating. What if O'Brian's group knew that he was an animangus? They must know he's an animangus. O'Brian had said that is group dealt in information. O'Brian knew that he was the easiest person to approach. That must mean that his group was watching the Order. Maybe it wasn't just that he was the easiest person to approach. They thought that he would be valuable to spy for them. If he disagreed they'd have something on him. 

            What was he supposed to do? If that group knew that Peter was an animagus, it was a short step from Peter to James and Sirius. Anybody who knew about Peter knew that he couldn't do something like that without help, and it would be only natural to assume that it had been the other three that had helped him. Then they would assume correctly that Peter wouldn't be the only one that would be an animagus if the others were helping him. So they would figure out James and Sirius. They probably already knew about Remus; after all, the Ministry kept files on that kind of thing. Then it wouldn't be too hard to figure out that they had done it illegally. There were records on that, too. Crap, he was going to be arrested. 

            If his secret got out, he would be off no use to the Order. Once the Death Eaters found out that the rat that had curiously been at many of their meetings was spying on them, they'd be out for his blood. He couldn't hide as a human or a rat. Then the Ministry would be looking for him, too. James, Sirius, and Remus would probably be arrested. None of them would be any good to the Order then. James was going to have a family, he couldn't be arrested. 

            Peter sat down on the couch. Breathe, he told himself. Just breathe. O'Brian said that he didn't want to go to the Death Eaters to sell information and that he wasn't interested in blackmail. He said that he wasn't interested… What about his group? O'Brian's group must know just as much as O'Brian. Peter didn't know who was in this group. What if they were interested in blackmail, or had no qualms about contacting Death Eaters? 

            He wished he could tell someone. There was something wrong about this. Going in unarmed except for his wand, without someone watching his back, without telling anyone where he was going. Yes, this definitely had death and torture written all over it. If he told anyone, O'Brian's group may find out about it, and then O'Brian and his cohorts might refuse to meet with Peter. If Moody found out that Peter had let an opportunity slip by where they might learn something important, Peter had the feeling that Moody would do more then just chew him out. 

            On the other hand, when Moody found out about this secret meeting that Peter had attended, he would probably do more then chew him out for putting himself and his secrets in such a vulnerable position. And if it did turn out to be an ambush, hey, its death and torture! 

            What would happen to the Order if he died? They'd lose a spy. Nothing else. That's what his life was. He was a spy for a group that the majority of the population would never hear of. Most of the people in said group didn't know he was a spy. All he would ever be is a security guard. An average security guard that could just as easily be replaced by someone else. Merlin, that's depressing. 

            Fine. If he had to be nothing, he might as well be nothing with a purpose. 

            A few days later, Peter was at work and manning the visitors' security desk again. His stomach had been clenched into a not for the past few days, and he had second guessed himself dozens of times, but in the end, he stuck with his decision. Each time someone approached the desk, Peter stomach would clench even more. He supposed he was being a little annoying; he had to call another security guard down to man the desk while he went to the bathroom. He half hoped that he would miss O'Brian and then he wouldn't have to make a choice. After his latest break, Peter sat down back at the desk. No sooner had he done so when O'Brian came to the desk. Peter got the feeling that O'Brian had been watching for him. 

            Peter thanked the guard that had taken over for him. The guard started for a hall way, looking annoyed. 

            "Hello, Pettigrew," O'Brian said, smiling that bright smile that made Peter uncomfortable. 

            Peter swallowed. "Hullo, O'Brian." Trying to behave normally, Peter got out the mareograph and began passing it over O'Brian. 

            "Have you thought about my proposition?" O'Brian said quietly.

            Peter nodded.

            "Well?"

            Peter hesitated, then nodded again.

            "Excellent!" O'Brian said gleefully. "Well, Peter, we'll get in touch with you." He said while Peter weighed his wand and the parchment printed out. 

            "Done," Peter said, his voice so low he himself could scarcely hear it. 

            O'Brian, looking satisfied, nodded at Peter and went down the hall. 

            "'You haven't steered us wrong yet,'" Peter repeated to himself. 

A/N's: Bit of a short chapter. But hey, I just posted two days ago. What do you expect?

Templa Otmena- I know, the last line is bad. Very bad. I actually felt dirty writing it in. But, hey, James had to say it. I had no choice in the matter. And since James said it, Peter had to repeat it. Alas, 'tis irony. Thanks for the review.

Fireblade K'Chonda- I can't say that I've had the pleasure of eating chocolate covered cherries. I'll take your word for it. Next time I come across it I'll try some. Enjoy yours. 


	10. Graven Images

It was a few weeks later and so far no one from O'Brian's group had contacted him, as far as he could tell, anyway. It was perfectly plausible that one of them had tried to secretly contact him and he had completely missed it. Peter was hoping that perhaps they decided that he wasn't worth it and might have settled on someone else within the group. Or maybe they decided to drop the plan all together, and he wouldn't have to worry about it any more. 

            Peter was quietly walking the halls. This part of the building was pretty empty. The Aurors' offices were down here, and Moody kept them pretty busy. The newer ones, which included James, Sirius, and Benjy, were being trained on some of the nastier spells that Death Eaters were starting to use. The veterans were either out on injury leave or out in the field. 

            Peter stood outside of the entrance to the corridor that the Auror's offices were in. He heard nothing, so he figured it was all right to go in. His job was to check all empty rooms unless they had the Ministry designation on it. And not the Department of Mysteries, of course. 

            A few of the cubicles had their lamps on, so Peter figured that it wasn't empty, but decided to look around anyway, to see if there was someone to talk to. It was pretty slow today, for once, and Peter was getting bored. 

            Alice Longbottom was at one of the cubicles, and she raised her head to say hello.

            "How are you feeling, Alice?" 

            She sighed exasperatedly. "Everyone always asks me that! It's like I was made of glass." She threw her hands up. "I would like to make an announcement!" She said to the nearly empty room. "I am not the first woman to ever have a baby! I imagine that I will not be the last! I-," 

            "Um, Alice," Fabian Prewett had come from his cubicle and interrupted Alice in the middle of her tirade. She shot him a look, but he acted as though she had been behaving normally. Maybe for Pregnant Alice, that was normal.

            "Alice, I finished my paperwork, do you suppose it would be all right if I took a break, maybe walked around with Peter on his rounds?" Fabian quickly looked at Peter, and Peter got the feeling that he better not say anything. 

            Alice suddenly became quiet and reserved. "All right, Prewett. But don't let it go too long." She said sternly.

            Fabian accompanied Peter out to the hall way and Peter allowed himself to be steered into a hallway filled with what he knew was mostly unoccupied offices. The diplomats for the Ministry of Magic's offices were down there, but nowadays they spent most of there time trying to get other countries to make a unilateral effort against He- Who- Must- Not- Be- Named. Peter understood why Fabian would want to use one of these offices. Reporters for the _Daily Prophet_ had their useful points, but they tended to get underfoot when diplomatic conferences were being held. They weren't allowed to listen in on the talks when they happened, so they had spent a lot of time in the hallway before Moody got annoyed one day and had Silencing Charms put on the whole hallway, so the reporters wouldn't even hear anything if the diplomats chose to disclose details. The only way one could be heard down this hallway was if they were in one of the offices and the door was closed. Otherwise, the Silencing Charm would permeate the office. Fabian silently led Peter into one of these offices and shut the door. Fabian pointed his wand at the door and Peter heard it click. He was suddenly strongly reminded of being back in O'Brian's office, although these walls were pale blue and beige. He tried to quell the panic that was rising in his chest. Had he been found out? Why was Fabian the one to confront him? Wouldn't it have made more sense to have James or Remus or even Sirius do it?

            Fabian turned and smiled. "Don't look so nervous, Pettigrew,"

            Peter gulped and smiled back weakly.

            "Don't worry, no one's died, you aren't required to take down fifty Death Eaters on the next mission, nothings wrong. I've just got to tell you we've got a meeting tomorrow night."     

            Peter gave a sigh of relief. He hadn't been found out yet. "What's the meeting for?" He knew that Fabian wouldn't tell him out right, but there were code words that they used to signify common meeting agendas. Fabian, however, shrugged. 

            "I don't really know," He said, but then he lowered his voice even more, though Peter couldn't guess why. "Orders came down from Dumbledore to Moody. Moody told me himself." Fabian shrugged again. "Usually it's just passed along. I do know that everyone's coming,"

            "What do you mean, 'everyone'?" Peter asked, surprised to hear himself whispering as well.

            "Everyone," Fabian repeated. "Everyone in the Birdwatcher's Club" 

            Peter grinned. That was their public name for the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore had come up with it himself. "How can everyone be there? Why?"

            Fabian held his hands up. "I don't know, Pettigrew. A lot of us were supposed to go tomorrow night-,"

            Peter nodded, he remembered it now. Usually he relied on his watch to tell him when he had an appointment. It was one of his weeks to go.

            "And, it was only like Fenwick, Vance, Podmore, and Bones that weren't going. Dumbledore apparently poked around and found out that they were all free that night, 'cept Fenwick, he still had some Auror training to go through, I think it was his last bit, anyway, Dumbledore made Moody drop it." Fabian grinned. Peter smiled a little himself. The only person in the world that could make Moody go easy on an Auror-in-training was Dumbledore. 

            "So everyone's going to be there," Fabian continued. "It must be pretty important to risk it. Moody's annoyed about it. Although whether it's the security risk or letting Fenwick off easy, I can't tell. Anyway, according to Moody, Dumbledore said that we should let everyone know, just so we'll be extra careful. If we're all going to be there, that would be a big gain for You-Know-Who if he found out about it." Fabian looked at his watch. "We got to get back. Alice is supposed to be covering for me if someone comes in. The Ministry's been making a big deal about knowing where all the Aurors are at all times. Can't even take a leak with out signing in and out. I'm not saying that Alice can't cover for me, but, you saw how she was," Fabian said, rolling his eyes. They started walking back to the Aurors' hallway. "I think she's getting restless. We've only been having her do paperwork, so she won't get hurt, but she's getting bored. She's going to explode someday, either literally or figuratively." 

            "That's a rather nasty way of putting it," Peter said, wincing. 

            Fabian shrugged. "Why not? She says it almost everyday herself. You should hear what she calls Frank." In a few minutes, they came to the hallway. "See you later, Pettigrew,"

            Peter waved back in response, then winced as he heard Alice start yelling at Fabian a few moments later. He continued on his rounds. He wasn't that far behind schedule, considering that he would have had to check the Diplomat hallway anyway. 

            With Fabian's news, he suddenly felt hopeful. Maybe O'Brian or someone from his group had actually contacted Dumbledore or Moody directly and they had reached some sort of agreement. Maybe the reason why Dumbledore wanted them to be all there was to introduce them to some of the spies in O'Brian's group. People would have to know, right? If that's what O'Brian's group was going to do, spy, anyway. If one of them were to approach a member of the Order talking about a plan of attack, the Order member would obliterate their memory in a second. 

            He was rambling. 

            He sighed out loud. How could he be rambling when he wasn't even talking to anyone?

            He never should have been in the Order. He was just way too excitable. 

By the time the end of the day came around, Peter had almost convinced himself that must have been what the meeting was going to be about. A big announcement would be the only reason that they would all have to be there. He was still nodding to himself and feeling pleased when he was getting ready to leave and was putting his cloak on (cloak again, why couldn't he ever remember his Muggle jacket?) when he heard someone call his name. He shut his eyes tight, hoping that it wasn't the voice that he thought it was. He opened his eyes again and slowly turned around, having to stop himself from groaning when his fear was confirmed.

            "Pettigrew!" O'Brian said, smiling that huge, uncomfortable smile of his and wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders. 

            "Hullo, O'Brian," Peter said, fumbling with the ties on his cloak.

            "Getting ready to leave, eh? You don't mind if I walk with you a bit, do you? Get some fresh air and all? Such a nice day."

            "I s'pose not," What was with people taking walks with him today?

            They left the entrance of the Ministry together and started down the street. Peter waited for O'Brian to say something. It wasn't long.

            "How are you doing, Pettigrew?"

            "I'm fine-," Peter said.

            "I'm doing well myself, Peter." O'Brian cleared his throat. "Peter, you've probably noticed this about me, but I like to be frank. Get to the point and be done with it. I'm just that type of fellow, right, Peter?"

            "Er-,"

            "Absolutely. Like I always say, Peter," O'Brian said, clasping his shoulder. "You can't get ahead in this world unless you say what you want to say and get it over with. Bore the living daylights out of people otherwise. Say it and get it down with, words to live by, am I right or am I right?"

            "Er, ok,"

            "In my opinion, those are the only people worth associating with."

            "I guess so,"

            "Anyway, Marlene McKinnon, you know her?"

            "Yeah, she's in the--," Peter almost said the Order. "Ministry. I see her a lot in the halls."

            "If I were you, I'd tell your group to keep an eye on her in the next three weeks."

            "What?" Peter turned to look at O'Brian, which afforded him the chance to get out of O'Brian's friendly one armed hug.

            "My people have been saying that you've been looking nervous lately. So I'm thinking that you don't trust us. If I pass true information on to you, maybe you won't be having second thoughts about coming to the meeting."

            "You haven't even told me about the meeting yet," Peter protested.

            O'Brian held a finger up to his mouth. "Right, I told you my group wasn't sure about this idea. We have to check up on you to make sure we can trust you. My sources have been saying that you seem to be a bit on edge lately." 

            Had he been that obvious? Peter wondered. 

            O'Brian continued.  So I've been thinking that it wasn't really fair that we know all this information about you and you know next to nothing about us. Think of this tidbit of warning as a bit of reciprocation. But I'm telling you, just keep a close eye on McKinnon,"

            "What do you mean, is she a Death Eater? A spy? What?"

            O'Brian suddenly looked at his watch. "Sorry, Pettigrew, got to go." With a sudden 'Pop', he Disapparated. Peter quickly looked around to see if anyone saw. No one had seemed to notice anything. Peter leaned up against a building and resisted the urge to bang his head against it. After a minute or two, he sighed and continued home. Maybe he'd walk the whole way. It was, after all, a nice day.

Peter had found out where the meeting was from Remus, who had to come into the Ministry the next day for his job. Amazingly, Peter found his way without getting lost. It wasn't too far away from one of the stops on the Muggle Underground. He hurried down the street toward the building that he thought it was. He saw Benjy coming in the opposite direction. Peter resisted the urge to wave. Drawing attention on this night in this area definitely would not be a good idea. Peter started for the entrance of the building, but suddenly someone bumped into him.

            "Sorry," Peter started to say, even though it wasn't his fault. Then he saw that it was Benjy who had bumped into him.

            "This way," Benjy said, staring straight ahead and talking out of the corner of his mouth. 

            "Are you sure?" Peter mumbled.

            "Moody said," Benjy broke into a longer stride. Peter waited a few moments so that people wouldn't think that he was following Benjy, then continued up the street, trying to watch Benjy without making like he was doing so to see where the entrance was. 

            Remus had told him the address, but the numbering on this street seemed to jump around, and the building the Benjy had entered was set back from the street, and most people walking down the street seemed unaware of its presence. 

            Shortly, Peter reached the door himself, and he hesitated for half a beat, wondering if he should knock. Before he reached a decision, Sturgis opened the door, and ushered him inside. There didn't seem to be a password tonight, but Sturgis cast a charm to reveal the presence of a Polyjuice Potion. Satisfied, Sturgis pointed him down a hallway. 

            The room was already crowded. Peter noted, with amusement, that James was trying to get Lily to stay sitting down, while Lily was yelling at him in very much the same tones that Alice had been using the day before. James looked worn out and it seemed that he was about to give in. 

            "Poor Prongs," Sirius said at Peter's side.

            "Yeah, he looks exhausted."

            "Well, he really didn't get a lot of sleep last night,"

            "Why?" Peter asked. "Did Moody keep you guys late last night?"

            "A little bit, but it's not that. Apparently Lily woke James up at three o'clock this morning and made him get her some chocolate covered cherries."

            "Chocolate covered cherries?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

            "Apparently Lily's mother used to give them out as a reward, you know like for getting good grades or whatever. According to James, Lily said 'If I'm going to keep carrying around your baby, I want some kind of reward for it!'"

            Peter snorted. 

            Sirius, laughing, went on. "James had to Apparate all the way to Hogsmeade because Honeydukes is the only place he could think of that would be open at that time."

            Over in their corner, it appeared that Lily and James had come to a truce of sorts. Lily was sitting down, but it seemed only because arguing with James had worn her out. She was sitting on a bench with her back against the wall, one hand resting on her stomach. She wasn't as big as Peter had expected a pregnant woman to be, but, as he reminded himself, there was still three going on four months to go. 

            Everyone else in the room seemed to be tense, and Peter felt his overwhelming feelings of anxiety envelop him again. He started to snap his fingers nervously. Why would Dumbledore need the entire Order to gather? Maybe to announce that You-Know- Who had given up, that the Order was disbanded. 

            Even Peter knew it couldn't be that. Even the Order couldn't keep something that big a secret. Maybe Dumbledore had realized that there was no way to beat You-Know-Who, and the Order could do no good anymore. 

            There were noises out in the hall, and then Dumbledore entered. Looking at him, Peter realized that could never be it. For one thing, Peter had never thought of the Headmaster as stubborn, but Dumbledore had too much. will, he guessed, to ever give up on anything. For another thing, Dumbledore seemed to be in a rather good mood tonight. 

            "Friends," he said. "I know it must seem foolhardy to ask you all to meet like this,"

            There was a general murmur of consent, but no one said anything out loud. They all knew that there must be a good reason if Dumbledore set up the meeting. 

            "I think that we can all agree that we are working for posterity. So, I think it only fitting that posterity know who we are." He took out his wand and gave it a little flick. A camera appeared, revolving in the air. "One day, we will not have to fear being discovered. This photograph, if someone were to find it, could mean death or worse for everyone in this room. But that will hang over us only for a time. A picture is worth a thousand words, and then some. Some of us will leave our number, through no will of their own. When they are gone, this picture will still give us their voice." The camera stopped revolving. "If you wish, would you all gather around?"

            There was a lot of background noise and confusion, and Peter found himself standing next to a man who bore a resemblance to Dumbledore himself, but this man immediately started talking to Peter about how a goat grows better if you charm it so its hair is pink. The only drawback, the man assured Peter, was that the milk couldn't be turned into cheese, but who seriously ate goat cheese anyway?

            "Er-," Peter stuttered, trying to figure out what to say. He felt someone grab his elbow. To his relief, he found it was James.

            "Sorry, sir," James said to the goat man. "I need to borrow Peter here. My wife wants to use his cloak to hide her stomach." The goat man nodded his head to James. As he turned around, Peter heard Sirius start to engage the man in conversation.

            "That's Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth. I've only met him once, but Sirius has met him a couple of times. Says he's a little off in the head. Which, of course, is why Sirius likes to talk to him." James said in a low voice. He planted Peter on the bench next to Lily, who took his cloak while making faces at James.

            "How can you go out on a night like this without a cloak?" She hissed. James shrugged. Lily draped the cloak over her stomach. Across the room, Peter could see Alice doing the same thing with Frank's cloak. 

            "Is everyone ready?" Peter heard Dumbledore ask. "Everyone smile,"

            A flash went off and Peter was temporarily blinded. 

A/N: I'm sorry that I took so long to update. I apologize. School started again and for some reason I got it into my thick head that I should take more classes then I need to. I swear I never was this ambitious before. 


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